I'm here.

A fully assimilated college student

preoccupied with classwork

and all the things to do today

making sure I keep my social life

eat a balanced diet

maybe workout

(although I'll likely opt for a nap)

and do all the things I'm supposed to

as a fully assimilated college student.


Yet with a small, almost inconceivable thing

--a smell, a sight, a taste--

Suddenly, I'm back.

Something seemingly normal has transported me

to a time, and to a place, I so long for.

without having to buy a plane ticket

I am back in Nicaragua.


With the slightest hint of coffee teasing my nose

I am suddenly in the mountains drinking

the actual world's best coffee

and witnessing the arduous and passionate process behind it.


Whenever the over-played Despacito comes on

I am back dancing late into the night

surrounded by friends and singing the words

free of all the day's worries

and, of course, making fun of the Justin Bieber's rendition

And yesterday in Sociology we discussed

the social implications of Coca-Cola

And suddenly I remember the mother

who cried as she told us of the loss

of her husband and sons due to liver disease

from the terrible conditions on the sugar plantation,

sugar that is used in soda and so many other things

and her final words to us:

"Tell others our story..."

And how many times have I told that story?

A few at best.


And sometimes I get to courage to voluntary go there

the emptiness in monotony gets to me

and I desire those strong feelings of joy, frustration, love, all of it

So I dig past the artificial list of the day's activities

and seek after those repressed feelings and stories.

And the pictures bring it all back. Immediately.

Not just the experiences, but the feelings.


The feelings of synchronized comfort from others

but discomfort in the days' challenges

the endless nights staring at the stars

pleading with God for life direction

But most of all the pure joy and laughs

even when I couldn't always understand the joke.


But then reality hits me

I realize, that time and place as I knew it

no longer exists. I can't truly go back.

nostalgia seems both satisfying and wrecking.

To make this illusion into reality,

I must embrace the lessons and feelings from there.


And sometimes, very occasionally

as I'm caught in the things of my assimilated college life

I decide to take the time to glance at the stars

or dance freely with friends

or call to check on my mom in the US and Nicaragua


And maybe once, I'll write about it

in an attempt to capture the illusion of Nostalgia

Only to realize, I can't.