Nectar
My abuelo loved hummingbirds. Every Sunday, as I basked in the warm sun while sucking on the juice of a freshly picked grapefruit, hummingbirds flew throughout my grandparents backyard. The sound of old Spanish music filled the air as my abuelo’s face beamed with happiness while watching the hummingbirds prance along the lush bushes and trees he had carefully trimmed. Ever since my abuelo passed away I have never looked at a hummingbird in the same, wholesome way. My mother always told me that every hummingbird contains my abuelo’s essence as he watches over me each day. Hummingbirds perfectly capture the spirit of my abuelo, carefree and adventurous. This, however, is everything that I am not. I’ve always said that I want to remain in Los Angeles forever. After all, this is the city where dreams come true. But as I’ve lived more years and experienced life on a deeper level, I realize that I can stay here no longer. My home, once filled with endless possibilities and hope, has become my glass cage. This understanding cuts into my soul deeper and deeper as time goes on, and I’m afraid I’ve lost too much blood. My suppressed aspirations flow out of me in the form of tears that stream down my face, leaving streaks of my internalized pain and regret showcased across my bright red cheeks. I try to soar as my abuelo does but the glass is merely an illusion that lures me towards the box’s tormenting ceiling. I must break through this prison and seek shelter in a new environment that is free of the numbing boundaries of my current home. When I see a hummingbird, I now understand the truth of my abuelo’s intentions, as he showcases his ability of flying free after leaving behind his home on Earth.
