Musings of a mini mexican

I am small, I am mighty, I am loved chosen and destined. I write not for anyone else to read really but to keep myself sane. Its how I process and in the process I have discovered I have a gift with words.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

home is where your fair trade coffee is.

I don’t ride a bicycle
Wear crocheted dresses with my rain boots
or make fashion statements with my sweatshirts.
I don’t drink kamboucha and I enjoy my non organic food from far away cuz its what I can afford with my food stamps…
My legs are more hula dancer than bicycle ballerina…
But I am Portland.
I like big trucks , country music and muscle cars…
For a girl who’s never really had a home this is the closest I could come..
This is my happy place ..my thinking couch..where im comfortable..
Where im just the right kind of weird …
To fit in here..
It took moving across the country..
Spending two years in an urban war zone ..
Dealing with unspeakable poverty and ignorance
To realize…
This is where I belong..
That there's is nothing better than a cup of coffee on the stairs in the square or waking up on a trimet bus to the man in front of you making balloon animals…
Nothing better than Powells on a rainy day or a man on the corner playing a flute...
this is where im comfortable..
For a girl who’s never really had a home.. this sure feels like one…

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