I dream of my grandmother’s kitchen floor. I dream of the ants marching toward the mango. I dream of my father’s shoulders, broad as a continent. I dream of the hummingbird in the bougainvillea, its wings beating so fast they disappear.

One Tuesday, Juan Pablo didn’t come to school. He sat behind me. He drew horses in the margins of his notebook. The next day, his desk was empty. The nun told us to pray for his family. She did not say why.

But here is what I also learned: resilience is not a grand speech. It is my mother waking up at 4 AM to sell empanadas at the bus terminal so I could have a new notebook. It is my abuela turning a single chicken into a three-course meal (soup, main, and fricasé leftovers). It is every costeño on the Caribbean coast laughing harder than anyone else the day after a hurricane.

You carry the warmth of the sun in your disposition, the rhythm of the music in your step, and the unwavering belief that no matter how difficult the path, there is always room for a cup of coffee and a conversation. To grow up as a little girl in Colombia is to be given a foundation of love, a spirit of resilience, and a heart that will always beat to the rhythm of the mountains and the sea.

As A Little Girl Growing Up In Colombia

I dream of my grandmother’s kitchen floor. I dream of the ants marching toward the mango. I dream of my father’s shoulders, broad as a continent. I dream of the hummingbird in the bougainvillea, its wings beating so fast they disappear.

One Tuesday, Juan Pablo didn’t come to school. He sat behind me. He drew horses in the margins of his notebook. The next day, his desk was empty. The nun told us to pray for his family. She did not say why. as a little girl growing up in colombia

But here is what I also learned: resilience is not a grand speech. It is my mother waking up at 4 AM to sell empanadas at the bus terminal so I could have a new notebook. It is my abuela turning a single chicken into a three-course meal (soup, main, and fricasé leftovers). It is every costeño on the Caribbean coast laughing harder than anyone else the day after a hurricane. I dream of my grandmother’s kitchen floor

You carry the warmth of the sun in your disposition, the rhythm of the music in your step, and the unwavering belief that no matter how difficult the path, there is always room for a cup of coffee and a conversation. To grow up as a little girl in Colombia is to be given a foundation of love, a spirit of resilience, and a heart that will always beat to the rhythm of the mountains and the sea. I dream of the hummingbird in the bougainvillea,