Edcel J. Cintron-Gonzalez
The sun peeked through the cream colored blinds of my windows. The rays of lights touched the chubby cheeks of my face and greeted me with a kiss. The rays approached me with a warm embrace. I felt a warm whisper in my ear echoing “Javier, it’s time to wake up mi niño.” When I open my eyes, my mom is sitting next to me telling me to get ready for the day. She opens the blinds revealing a beautiful sunny day. The birds flying from the branches of the plants surrounding our home in Hormigueros, Puerto Rico. I jump out of my bed, wear the bright clothes my mom picked out for me, and get ready to have some breakfast. After all, being 6 years old has its perks. I still enjoy warm meals made by my grandma, Mama Colon. She would always tell me to slow down when I am eating. She would often say “Javy, no se puede cruzar el río sin llegar al puente,” which is a Puerto Rican word of wisdom to say that I have to take things slow, one step at a time. I quickly ate my scrambled eggs with my favorite bread in the world, “pan de anon,” and went outside to play on our front porch. The day was still beautiful and sunny, as I admired the pigeons that were flying around the neighborhood. Where I live, there are a bunch of mango trees that cover our houses with shade, where the sun only touches our skin ever so slightly. The trees and plants around us make our neighborhood feel like we are close to the beach, a taste of island life.
I went back to my home and used our outdoor stairs to climb all the way up to the ceiling, where I can lay down for a late morning nap. I saw the birds flying about. Carefree and flying to an endless blue sky. I wonder if birds think of the sky as their version of the sea. Both are huge bodies of the color blue. Blue is my favorite color! I love the different shades of it. Sky blue for when I feel giddy and happy, a tone similar to yellow, without the yellow part, haha. Royal blue for when my mom and I want to be serious. Turquoise for our trips to the beach and to match with Mama Colon’s “bata” dress. As I get distracted by all the wonderful shades of blue, I continue to get lost with how pigeons hide their colors. They are birds that don’t show off their colors like others. They are forever gray birds unless you look closely at their feathers. They hide a stream of vivid colors under their feathers. I see greens, and purples, and bright colors as if their skin embodied a mosaic glass artwork. Pigeons mask their true colors with their gray exterior, as if they are hiding something from the world. Most people hate pigeons because they are not as pretty as other birds… I wonder if that is how other people see me being the only chubby kid at school… The birds were looking at me from the red brick walls surrounding my house. They looked at me as if they were trying to tell me something. Is this a dream?
I gazed intently into the eyes of one pigeon that seemed to stand out among the rest. It had an unusual glint in its eye, almost as if it was beckoning me to come closer. Tentatively, I reached out my hand, expecting it to fly away. But to my astonishment, it stepped onto my fingers, balancing itself delicately.
“Javy,” it cooed softly, though not with the voice of a bird, but a more human-like tone. It sent shivers down my spine. “You see us, really see us, and we notice. Just like you, we’re more than what’s on the surface.”
I was stunned, unsure of whether this was a figment of my imagination or some magical realism that Puerto Rico concealed in its rich tapestry of tales and legends. I’d heard from Mama Colon about legends of enchanted creatures who could communicate with humans, but I’d never imagined that I’d experience it myself.
“Is this real?” I whispered, afraid of scaring the bird away.
The pigeon ruffled its feathers, revealing the vibrant colors hidden underneath. “Real is what you feel in your heart, Javy. You have a unique gift of seeing the beauty in the ordinary, the extraordinary in the mundane. But remember, just because others can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
The words resonated deeply within me. Perhaps the pigeon was an embodiment of my own insecurities, reminding me that I was more than what others saw on the surface.
Suddenly, the sky was filled with a cacophony of coos, as pigeons from all directions converged above me, swirling and dancing in the sky. It was as if they were celebrating a shared understanding, a moment of connection.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the moment ended. The pigeons scattered, and the magical one on my finger took flight, blending seamlessly with the flock.
Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed my mom calling out to me from below. “Javy, ven aquí! Time for lunch!”
I climbed down, filled with wonder. The day had taken an unexpected turn, leaving me with a newfound appreciation for the beauty around me and the depths within. And as I walked back inside, I made a silent promise to myself to always cherish the unique hues and colors that make up the world, whether visible on the surface or hidden deep within.
My sister called me. She told me we are going to take a walk at Mayagüez Mall to see all the shops and then eat at Burger King. I cheered and screamed and started running to my sister’s Rav4. I loved going to the mall, in a way, I would say walking to the mall is like how I fly in the sky. The hallways are huge! I can run around endlessly from one shop to another. I can go around in circles and jump on the black and cream square tiles of the floor. And just like how birds stop to take a refreshing dip in a bird fountain, I go to the mall’s fountain stop to rest and enjoy some ice cream.
My sister keeps telling me I should keep things at a steady pace and not just myself. She would say, “remember what Mama Colon always says: no se puede llegar al río sin cruzar el puente.” When you think about it, I would not be able to cross a river without crossing a bridge first. Unless I was flying across the river like the birds I admire. Unless I spread my wings and fly across these mysterious spaces. I so want an adventure, just like the kids I see on my favorite cartoons. They get to go out on their own and explore the world with their friends. I mean that all sounds great and all, but do I really want to rush things? Do I want to leave home? Maybe after I eat my kids’ meal I’ll think more about this.
At Mayagüez Mall, the sights and sounds were a whirlwind of activity. Families strolled from store to store, children laughed and played, and vendors advertised their wares. The aroma of freshly baked pretzels from the kiosk and the latest perfume from the department store wafted through the air.
Arriving at Burger King, my sister and I placed our orders. As I waited for my kids’ meal, I gazed out the large windows. I watched a group of kids, probably a bit older than me, laughing and joking around. They looked like they were having the time of their lives. For a moment, I imagined myself as one of them, exploring new places, going on adventures, and discovering the world’s wonders.
As I daydreamed, my sister nudged me, handing me my kids’ meal. I opened it excitedly, not just for the food, but also for the toy inside. To my delight, it was a little plastic bird with wings that actually flapped when you pressed a button.
My sister noticed my fascination with the toy and smiled. “You really do love birds, don’t you, Javy?”
I nodded, holding the toy up to the light, watching its wings flap. “I wish I could fly like them, sis. I wish I could see the world from up high, feel the wind on my face, and go wherever I want.”
She leaned closer, her voice softening. “Javy, you might not have wings, but you have something just as powerful: imagination. It can take you anywhere you want to go. And remember, every adventure starts with a single step. Maybe today, it’s the mall. Tomorrow? Who knows! But don’t rush things. Enjoy every moment.”
We finished our meal, and as we left the restaurant, I held onto my bird toy, flapping its wings. The mall’s vast corridors beckoned, and with my sister by my side, I felt ready to embark on any adventure that came our way.
As the day drew to a close and we headed back to the car, the sunset painted the sky in brilliant shades of orange and purple. I looked up, my thoughts drifting to the endless possibilities the future held. But for now, I was content. With a full belly, a new toy in hand, and my sister’s wisdom echoing in my ears, I realized that every day held its own special adventure. I just had to be present to experience it.
The next day, my sister and I decided to return to Burger King. My favorite place to eat chicken nuggets and to play in the big castle. I could not wait anymore! I ate half of my chicken nuggets and burger, plus my soda, and went to the back of the fastfood place and started to climb the giant plastic castle. I started climbing the odd shaped blocks straight to the top of the tower. I wanted to keep climbing to reach high. I wanted to go up as much as I could. Enough to maybe touch the sky. Maybe even feel what it is like to not be so close to the ground. I went down through the pink slide. I went back up and kept playing for some time in the castle. I ran into another kid and we decided to play tag. I ran away as fast as I could from the kid. I ran into a red brick wall where the birds hung out.
Bang!
I hit my forehead hard. Blood started to drip from my head. It was red and painful. I cried and ran to my sister. I blanked out. All I could hear was the sound of birds chirping. The same sound I would hear in the morning as the morning sun would wake me up. The same sound I enjoyed when I was laying on the top of my house taking a late morning nap. Will I fall asleep for good? When will the chirping stop? Were the pigeons on the red brick wall warning me about this? I want to wake up now. I want to wake up next to my mom again. I want to keep flying in the world, to take things step by step. If “a cada puerco le llega su Sábado,” then this is not my time. When I opened my eyes, my mom was next to me telling me everything will be ok. And this is the last voice I heard before looking up in the sky and blanking out to the bright colors of a clear day.
The next thing I remember was the cold, slightly antiseptic smell of a hospital room. There were beeping sounds, faint murmurings of voices, and a softness underneath me that felt different from my bed at home.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, and the bright white lights momentarily blinded me. I blinked rapidly, adjusting to the surroundings. My head throbbed with a dull ache, and my hand instinctively reached up, only to touch a bandage.
A gentle hand held mine. It was my sister. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but when she saw me awake, they lit up with relief. “Javy,” she whispered, squeezing my hand, “You gave us quite a scare.”
“What happened?” I croaked, my voice sounding far away.
“You had a nasty fall at the mall,” she explained, brushing a stray hair from my forehead. “You hit your head pretty hard. They brought you to the hospital. But the doctors say you’re going to be okay.”
I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness made me lie back down. The memories started flooding back – the excitement at the mall, the play castle, the game of tag, and then… the crash.
“Why are pigeons always around when I have these moments?” I mused aloud, recalling the chirping I’d heard.
My sister laughed softly. “Maybe they’re your guardian angels, looking out for you. Or perhaps they’re just a reminder of the beauty and fragility of life.”
Over the next few days, as I recuperated, I had many visitors. Mama Colon, with her soothing stories and wisdom, my school friends with their get-well-soon cards, and even the kid I was playing tag with came by with a toy pigeon as an apology.
As I lay there, I realized that life was filled with highs and lows. Sometimes, we fly, and sometimes, we fall. But it’s the people around us – our family, our friends – who pick us up, dust us off, and help us take flight again.
A week later, I was discharged from the hospital. As I stepped out into the sunlight, I looked up at the vast expanse of the blue sky. Birds soared freely, their chirping a joyful melody. I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face and the gentle breeze rustling my hair.
Life was an adventure, with its twists and turns. But as Mama Colon always said, “no se puede llegar al río sin cruzar el puente.” With each step I took, I was determined to cross every bridge, cherish every moment, and soar to new heights.