Movement, stasis, transition, settled, migration, stillness, return, permanence.

Many of our people were born in transit – between the point of departure and an eventual, terminus. In all likelihood, the final destination was not a forgone conclusion, but rather, a matter of pragmatics; somewhere better than where one had been, although never ideally the place one imagined one would end up.

Los Angeles is one such in-between place for those of us now residing in Canada. In-between ‘home’ and our ‘new home’.

I cannot recollect the first memory of my maternal first-cousin, Maria. She was born in Los Angeles, California. My parents tell me that I did not provide her a gracious welcome when she arrived in Toronto with my aunt. Apparently, any time my father would hold her in his arms, I would scream “Mia!!!!!” in a fit of jealously. On one occasion, I even threw my pacha (bottle) in her direction in a fit of rage! Seemingly, and over time, I acquiesced to the new status quo and war turned to peace.

Its probably befitting that I cannot recall the first time I met or first time I recall seeing Maria. In a way, I feel as if she has always “been there” – a permanent part of me and my memories; seamlessly woven into my consciousness. Our family photo albums seem to support this intuition. As I turn the pages of captured moments, Maria is there at every turn. We can be found together during all those significant life moments: Christmas, first communion, birthdays, family gatherings, weekend get-togethers, confirmation, etc.  throughout the year. Maria, she was there. She’s always there. (Like a monarch’s journey south and back north. San Salvador-Los Angeles-Toronto. Back and forth. That to-and-fro has always been there. But those borders, those are new. They have not always been there!)

In recent years, Maria has figured prominently as I attempt to unravel the tapestry of some of the painful memories of our youth; the chaos of home life; the sense of longing and displacement; to derive a sense of meaning. Maria, she never judges, always queries. Maria doesn’t need all the details; she has lived most of them. There are very little gaps to fill. She finishes my thoughts, sees me in the present and in the past; simultaneously. Our understanding lives outside the bounds of time. Maria Romilia Rosales, born in LA, here to stay. The closest I ever got to having a sister; the closest I could get to feeling at “home”, in our “new home”.