Seriously though, I am in awe of Spanish speakers. The language is beautiful and chaotic to my English ears, and after years of classes on the subject, I have a deep respect for (and jealousy of) those who learn Spanish at any point in their lifetime.
The first thing I feel when I come to is cold air across my face. Is this Hell? Purgatory? My brain’s reaction to the body shutting down? Whatever it is, it isn’t so bad. I slowly open one eye, and all I see is blue sky. No clouds, planes, birds – just the sun welcoming me to what I can only guess is something akin to the afterlife. My hands grip the ground below and, with a gasp, I sit up quickly. The grass is soft, dark green, and reminds me of home. Not my simplistic apartment; my before-everything home. With the robin’s egg canvas above me and blanket of grass below me, I dare myself to look ahead. Sorrow and happiness grip my chest and throat when I spot the figure leaning against a familiar chain link fence. It can’t be. It just can’t.
“Dad?” My voice cracks. The figure doesn’t turn around. Worn steel-toe boots, Levi jeans, Walmart t-shirt, and a small braid down his back, it couldn’t be anyone else. I scramble to my feet and run towards the fence, but stop before I throw my body into the metal loops. I slowly grip the top of the hurricane fence, take a deep breath, and look up and over to the right at the once constant in my life.
“Katy?” He grins and looks down at me. He isn’t much taller, but it’s enough that I have to tilt my head back a degree. He lifts his aviator sunglasses and plants them on his head of short, curly hair. “What are you doing here?”