"Ay Cumaná, whoever saw you and through your streets would pass San Francisco and go to mass at dawn" ... It is a representative phrase of a song called Río Manzanares. For me, significant and full of emotions; it exclaims in these moments what I feel since I am far from my country: I miss her in a flood.

It fills me with pride to be from the East of the country. Cumaná, is the capital of the Sucre State; Firstborn of the American Continent. Surrounded by a beautiful coastal bay that has the most beautiful shade of blue that my eyes have been able to see. I miss its warm waters, worthy of a dip of those that take away all evil, all heaviness and return your soul to your body.

I miss my grandmother's hugs as she blessed me. His wise and so accurate phrases and words that I carry with me in all my daily activities or when I go through uncomfortable situations. It is undeniable not to say to myself: "My grandmother was right", they are my finite ground wire. My family is small and compact. I miss her with every cell of my being; Although it is far from perfect, they instilled in me good values ​​and it has always supported me in all the decisions that, in my almost 30 years, have made me the woman I am today.

I miss the afternoons of coffee with milk and sweets in all the beautiful little corners that I have visited with my people. I miss that characteristic petricor smell while watching the rain fall in my backyard, which makes me release endorphins at 100 km / h reminding me that I am alive and healthy. I miss from the inclement sun of a Holy Week in Pampatar (Nueva Esparta State) to the cold of a humid breeze that freezes my nose in Colonia Tovar (Aragua State). I am grateful for all this.

Venezuela is beautiful and exuberant, full of light and dark shades. It is my only latent toxic relationship because I continue to fervently wait for everything to change and although I did not have the pleasure of visiting every corner of my country, I fervently believe that good things await those who insist and resist because I continue to insist and bet on being able to return one day...

I have beautiful memories in it and it hurts me to hear, see and read another countryman say that he would never return. It breaks my heart. For me, it's like telling your family, the people you love that you don't want to see them again, to caress and share with them in life. I understand that we all want to grow in certain aspects: economic, social, spiritual, among others. That there are places and people that make us feel comfortable but not happy. But I am also aware that "Each head is a world" and we will learn to be happier when we have a sense of belonging and respect for our origins, because life emerges from them.