I am from threads, from Polleras and sombreros pintados.
I am from the dirt on my boot, rigid, and strong, which I could ever take out after those rainy days.
I am from Sterculia apetala. the national tree, who’s thorns got into my fingers on those January afternoons spent by the river.
I’m from livestock auction and big cheeks.
From Carlos, the attorney on December 20, 1989; and Carmen, the nurse, the one remembered by all nurses and doctors.
I’m from the “painstaking” and “past-it ons.”
From “you will be a carnival queen” and “you have farms to take care.”
I’m from the go to church and pray the Lord, even though I still don’t believe.
I’m from Panama, the land with two oceans.
From pork, guandu rice, and sweet plantains.
From the National Emblem my uncles designed and painted.
The couple owning a restaurant on main street, just to sen my grandpa to Switzerland.
Inside the drawers, old pictures, unknown faces, next to my grandma’s, my role model, which I couldn’t meet. Those old pictures, which reflect hard work and persistency.