My Fairytale

Fabianna Rincon ’21

Once upon a time there was a paradise – a gorgeous land of beaches with crystal clear waters and mountains that stretched up to the heavens. Rivers filled with every animal imaginable flowed up and down the beautiful landscape, leading up to shimmering waterfalls that fell from so high, it looked like gods were pouring the water down for the people. 

The second you entered paradise, your heart instantly happier. Blue skies and palm trees were just outside the window, and you’d enter by crossing the multicolored pathways decorated with every color imaginable. Once through, you’d sprint to greet your familia – colliding with primos in a hug and kissing abu on the cheek. They’d lead you to the car, which then began the journey to your abuelo’s castle. The gates swung open to reveal three stories of white cement walls, with arching windows and cool tile paveways. The garden had magical flowers that opened at only at night to reveal their gaping rose colored jaws. Inside, Abu would start on the food – arepas, cachapas, empanadas, and the sweetest fried platanos that would melt in your mouth when you ate them. Tate would be in his office, and he’d always let you lay on the threaded hammock that stretched across his book cases. Outside, you could lay on the grass on the patio, bathing in the sunlight that showered down on you. The sun was always bright in paradise. 

Abuelo Rene lived in the middle of the wilderness, or at least that’s how it seemed when you’d visit. His garden was full of towering palms and gorgeous flowers. Every bird imaginable would flutter from tree to tree – he’d be able to tell you the species of every one. In the garden there was an 80 year old tortoise, who’d hide from visitors but show his face to those who were lucky. The lucky ones would also get Abuelo Rene’s oreos, with chocolate cookies you’d split in half while sitting on his lap. And there, he’d tell you stories of his adventures in La Guaira, where the beach was never farther than a block away and Tommaselli’s served the most delicious ice cream you’d ever tasted. 

In paradise, all of the places were beautiful, with names that rolled off your toungue. There was Mira Mar and Siete Mares, La Guaira and El Avila. Caracas had the beautiful city scape with stores that sold anything you could ever dream of (Abu would buy you anything you asked). Margarita was an island littered with tiny houses, with women who sold the most delicious empanadas outside of the iglesia. 

On the beaches, the wind blew your hair back just the right way as you heard waves crashing in the distance. Cousins, siblings, and friends would join you to dive into the jewel blue waves. You would wait until just the right second to submerge – the moment when, if you were lucky, you could get caught in the eye of the wave, and look up to see crystalline waters peaking over your head.

Back on shore, tias and abuelas sit sunbathing, enjoying the absolutely perfect weather. That’s what my mami always told me. “80 degrees every day”. The sun was always bright in paradise. 

My paradise was Venezuela, a country right at the northernmost peak of South America. I grew up hearing about and visiting paradise, getting to see the fairytale up close. But like all fairytales, villains exist and problems occur. At first visits lasted for months, but over the years we began to visit for less and less amounts of time. At first, my memories of paradise are of semillita preschool, and christmases at Abu’s castle. My last memory of Venezuela was sitting in a bullet proof car, watching sirens outside my window as we drove as fast as we could to the castle. Venezuela isn’t the place where the stories whispered to us on car rides home occurred – where the fairytales took place. But the sun still shines in paradise, even when the clouds are covering the light. I’m confident that the happy ending will come for my fairytale, and i’ll be able to take my familia to make their own memories in paradise one day.