01/01/2026
Un árbol solo en medio del campo,
guardando memoria.
These fields are my sanctuary—
where my abuelos spoke in harvests,
naming what the land would give
because they knew her,
porque la tierra se conoce con las manos.
I was raised by caminos de polvo y sol,
by stories carried in Spanish and silence.
The Valley lives in my blood,
surcos corriendo por mis venas,
raíces profundas, sin pedir permiso—
raíces antiguas de esta tierra,
un patrón trazado mucho antes de que fuéramos pensamiento,
antes de nombres, antes del tiempo.
We do not stand on this land—
estamos sobre su cuerpo,
walking the same earth that held
those who came before us,
those who dreamed us into being.
I drive as an offering.
I wander as remembrance.
I pause to give gracias to the land that raised me.
Aquí sigo. Aquí honro.
This is not just where I’m from—
this is where my spirit learned how to belong.