Back to Home // Creative Nonfiction: Prompt #26

Submerged in my thoughts, I was walking, without knowing where I was going, people passed by me and I didn't even look at them, I only listened to that inner voice that repeated over and over again: _What am I doing here; there, I was like lost, 9 months in that Bogota and I still wasn't used to it, I missed my land, where I left my roots, my people, my joy, my feet took me to the park I used to frequent, I sat down on the same bench, an audible memory of my grandmother came to my mind:

Are you sure about what you are going to do, said my grandmother, more than a question it was a comment.

-Yes grandmother, I answered, very happy.
Here you can work and still go to college, she said.

-I will go alone for two years, to help you, I said.

An illusion that was broken when I realized that I made a big mistake when I listened to people, living abroad was not easy, it was a lie that as soon as I arrived I would have a job, I could support myself, buy everything I would need and also send money to help my family, with so many Venezuelans in Colombia, it was hard to get a job, I almost ran out of money, eating once a day to economize, I never imagined that in my 20 years I would have to go through this bitter experience.

Involuntary tears ran down my cheeks, that afternoon, Why are you crying? I heard an old woman sitting next to me and I didn't even realize it.

-Nothing," I answered.

Something is wrong with you, the sadness is in your eyes," said the old woman.
I didn't like to talk to strangers, but this lady inspired me confidence, she reminded me of my grandmother.

-The truth is that I am sad, I want to go home, I have not been doing well here, I told her.
And why don't you go back home? She asked tenderly.

-I don't want to leave without having anything to take to my family, I answered.
That doesn't matter, they miss you too, they want to see you arrive, even if you don't bring them anything, they will be happy for your return.

The old woman stood up and left, but those words stayed with me, so much so that when I got to where I lived, I counted the money I had saved, it was enough to pay the rent and the tickets to return, I packed my bags, talked to the owner of the inn, paid what I owed, went to the place where I worked and so I started my return to my beloved Venezuela.

That old lady was not wrong, in my home they were waiting for me with open arms and with the same love as always, I told her about all the work I had done there and they did not reproach me anything, here I am working, I have what I need, without many luxuries, but I am in my home; Today I look back and I can say that making the decision to emigrate led me to make the biggest mistake of my life.