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Almost a year has gone by and I am still left in complete awe by the natural beauty of this country. I have to admit that at times I take these things for granted since I am in the city most of my days. Even here, when I let my guard down and I allow myself to be penetrated by the things around me, I actually get a little emotional and overwhelmed, and sometime cry by the beauty of the simplest things. I am so connected to this island and why wouldn’t I be having been born here and belonging to a long line of Dominican descendants; nonetheless, I feel like it doesn’t belong to me, like I don’t belong here. Then out of nowhere I see my favorite galletas that grandma use to serve me with coffee and milk back in Boston when I was a little girl. I look at the fresh juicy limonsillos (kenepas, mamones) on my way home from work and can’t help to remember getting a batch for a US$1 at the corner stores of Massachusetts and New York.  As I wipe the tears off my face, I ask my self why I was crying in the first place. I am still not all sure why, I can only guess. Perhaps the fact that I am experiencing all of this things that connect with my loved ones who are not here, I am alone, yet they belong in each of the stories that I find throughout these streets.