Frida Rosario Inchaustegui

Summer Break - Inviernos en Perú

As soon as the school year comes to a close,

Ustedes ya saben where you will go.

No camps, or beach weekends with nothing to do.

Ustedes ya saben, se van a Perú.

You three will pack suitcases filled to the brim,

With clothes, toys, books, and the most random things

That will keep you busy todo el verano.

“Ya acuéstense que el vuelo sale temprano.”

At the airport, you each have a bookbag as planned

Keeping your most treasured possessions on hand.

Not trusting the airlines - ellos pierden maletas.

You learned this the hard way, now your bags are repletas.

Mami travels with you, your concierge door to door,

North to South Hemisphere, you pass Ecuador.

Meaning you’ll spend your summer dressed for invierno.

“No te preocupes,” says Mami, “you’ll miss the infierno.”

A caravan of relatives awaits your arrival,

All ready with questions about your survival

In that far away land de los desconocidos,

The place you call home - Los Estados Unidos.

Your brains flip a switch to now only speak Spanish.

It takes a few tries, at first, it's all anguish.

Your mouths know the rhythm y quieren bailar.

Your words try to keep up but it sounds like you're dubbed.

Your family is patient, although they do tease:

“Se han vuelto gringa” - toman fotos “say cheese.”

Your frequent exclamation is a resounding “Wow! Wow!”

Abuela declares you’ve become perritos somehow.

Every day you are out, haciendo visitas

With the family that stayed here who never got visas.

Some have tried and are hoping to leave this homeland.

You ask if it's worth it, but they don’t understand.

You marvel at every person you meet:

Tíos, tías, and primos, you have a whole fleet.

Everyone says they have met you, at least once before.

You greet each with un beso y mucho amor.

By the end of the trip you have your own crew,

Allowed to wander the neighborhood to find things to do.

This was a time before cell phones, GPS, or air tags.

“Yo conozco a todos”, Abuela frequently brags.

As kids of Peruchos, knowing no other cuisine,

Here you relish in picarones and lúcuma ice cream.

You eat as you’re told, savoring todo lo bueno, 

But when they serve cuy, piden arroz con huevo.

Your summer in Peru nears its final weeks.

Now you’re joking in Spanish - no longer meek.

You’ve adapted the slang - Saying “Ya pe, que piña!”

With no one around saying “así no hablan las niñas.”

As you pack up your bags and prepare to go home,

You realize that word is entirely wrong.

Isn’t home where the heart is? Aren’t you leaving yours there?

This truth leaves you in anguish, sometimes even despair.

Saboreas cada momento that very last day.

You linger in spots, purposefully affecting the way

Cada sentido que sientes - taste, touch, sight, smell, and sound

Bind together into core memories you can carry around.

At the airport you near the security gate,

Your hearts break as you silently accept your fate.

You have to return to Los Estados Unidos,

Y volver a convertirte a un desconocido.