las orillas: dancing on the edge

The fresh and salty scent of the ocean breeze. The warmth of hot Carribean rays. Tiny feet, unsteady and precocious, digging into the velvety mixture of dry and moist sand. Papi caresses away the wisps of baby hairs flying into my face, while he talks to me softly and gently, coaxing me to walk into the sea waters of a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Isn't it strange what constitutes the pieces of our first memories? Our first recollections of existence? Of existing? It baffles me that it is my father whom I first recall...not my mother. My father, Antonio Darder Garcia, is a viejo who at 52 years old conceives a girl-baby from his liaison with his 19 year-old hellish jibara mistress, Carmen Francisca Aguilo from Bayamon.

In hypnotic splendor, I look out at the sea from the comfort of my father's arms. He tells me fantastic tales of Spanish pirates and sailors and recites poetry and teaches me magical spells, which are all tucked away into the secret compartments of my freshly awakened mind. Papi's voice is strong, sweet and melodic. He feeds me sweet nectar stolen away from the orishas during his journeys to the underworld on long hot summer nights.

Perhaps, Papi already knows the future. I am to grow-up in a strange world far away from him...in a future filled with pain and grief. So, to protect my tiny soul from harm, he teaches my soul to dance and sing. He teaches me to see between the dark shadows of day and to gaze into the light shadows of night. He opens my senses to the fragrance of tropical flowers, the song of the coqui, and the taste of fresh coconut milk. He dances me across the landscape of boricua dreams, dries my tears and comforts my fears.

En la playa de Arecibo, I first discover that the sea can tickle my feet. The wetness of the surf catches me by surprise. My tiny lungs fill to create a gasp. Papi quickly picks me out of the water but then immerses my feet again. Over and over we play this game. En las orillas del mar, Papi and me are filled with delight. I shout with laughter and glee, while my father sings a children's folksong to me.

Chinita soy, Chinita soy,

de la China vengo yo.

Ya yo me voy,

ya yo me voy.

Adios, adios, adios."