This Is My Confession..
When I was 5 years old, my mother sacrificed everything we had back home in Nicaragua to immigrate to Canada for a better life. Our struggle was immense but we made it. About Fourteen years have passed since our 'move' to the north. Now our lives are wonderful, my mother has a good paying job and I'm in University.
But that's not really how my story starts.
When I was 16 years old, my mother decided that it was time to return back home and visit our family. After being away for about eleven years at that time, I was not at all fond with this idea. In fact I hated this idea, to make matters worse; we were going to be there for a month. A full month of my life that I was going to be away from my comfortable surroundings, my friends and my life style, yup I really hated it.
Six hours of travel by plane and an hour car ride later, we were there. My surroundings were incredibly different, the people and life style was not like my Canadian life style.
Between my aunts and my mother exchanges of laughter, tears, hugs and feelings mixed with gibberish sayings of how much they loved, missed and how much we've changed. I was passed around like a new branded and unusual item that was not common. I would even admit that I enjoyed this attention. My eyes continued wondering the room and that's when I saw him. There he was, standing with my other cousins, arms folded-just watching, thinking, God knows about what. But at that moment it felt like the nerves from my finger tips arose and travelled from the tips of my fingers to the length of my arms to give me Goosebumps and rose to the red of my cheeks.
His name is Daniel.
At that point of my life, I figured that the only reason that I was attracted to him was because of his boyish smile and his nice yellow-hazel eyes. Plus, we were practically strangers, the only thing I knew about him was that his name was Daniel and that unfortunately he was my cousin.
In Nicaragua there is a custom that whenever you greet, or meet or even say goodbye to someone-whether a stranger or family member. You kiss on the cheek, let me admit that I am very fond of this custom. Continuing on with my story, we were introduced to each other and from that moment on, every time we met and greeted I always held my breath in hopes that he misguided his kiss and rather than him kissing my cheek-that our lips would meet.
Our turning point came one night, when we were both sitting outside of my grandmother’s house and talking about everything that was new and strange in Canada that would never be experienced there. This seemed to fascination him and as we continued talking I was fascinated by him. Our departure came too soon that night. And we as we kissed goodbye, I held my breath one more time. I guess that at that moment by a miracle of god. Our lips met. It was like electricity! It was like a surge of electrical warmth hit me. Like utter shock! I was completely dumbfounded! Literally, it took me a full 10 slow seconds to realize that we were kissing. And by a completely unreasonable reflex-I pushed him away. He laughed at my bewilderness and left.
I don’t know how to explain it. But I think that was the precise moment that I fell in love with him. It was something incomparable; it was something so sweet and natural what I felt for him. It was this emotion that made me crave just being in viewing distance of him. It was like every time I closed my eyes, he was there. Every time I took a breath, it ached. And every time I was with him, I wanted to cry.
From that moment on our meetings and encounters was something sacred. I began counting how many times his eyes would linger on to me at family gatherings and how many quiet smiles we shared.
The night we became official was at my cousin’s birthday at their home. Their house was being renovated and the whole upstairs was without carpet, lighting and furniture. All the younger kids were playing hide and seek is this dark area. Let me remind you that it was also night time so it was especially dark. The older cousins decided to go play pranks on the younger cousins. We went up too. He went up and a couple minutes later I followed. The whole floor was extremely dark and I could barely see two feet in front of me. Arms stretched out I made my way in further into the darkness, every now and then I’d bumped into a small child and they would just scream and run away. I made my way into a room and wanted to call out Daniel, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I found the nearest wall near me and secured myself to it. But not before being pulled in by someone unknown. I was about to pull away when Daniel assured me it was him. So I let him pull me and I let my heartbeat rise and we just stayed like that for a few good minutes until I decided to face him. That night we kissed and kissed and let our hands linger and explore. Every now and then we would stop and just hugged or just held each other. That night we became official. He was mine and I was his.
The rest of the month was wonderful and we spent it amazing together. I was set to leave on the 4th of January, after the New Year. On New Year’s Eve, I escaped with him to my other cousin’s house on the other side of town. We wanted to be alone and away from the family and that was the perfect location. That evening we fully became lovers. I became a woman, as the term goes, and he became a man. After we made our way back to our family with a million excuses to why we were both gone, we spent the new years together, he gave me my new year’s kiss when the family was too preoccupied and all my new year resolutions were about him.
At our official departure, we both cried our hearts and souls away in each other’s arms. I promised him I would return the following year and I told him to wait for me. He said he would.
To this day, years after those events, I continue being in love with him. And even as I write this, my heart aches for him. I’ve gone back several times and but we’ve broken up. He says he still loves me but that our family would never allow it. And it’s true, they wouldn’t. I wish we were both different people. But at the same time I don’t, because if we were-we would have never met.
This is my confession.