Was it a stroke of luck?“You’re lucky.” It’s a phrase I’ve heard often since my stroke—lucky to have my sight, lucky to have avoided more severe deficits, and lucky to be here.
I don’t feel lucky about what happened. But I do feel grounded in gratitude for the path of healing I’m on, for the people walking beside me, and for the ways this experience continues to shape how I see myself and the world. This blog is where I make sense of that journey in real time—through story, reflection, and the quiet work of rebuilding. |
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I am from Swatch watch. From Jordache and the Electric Company. I am from the red corner house on a busy hill with cars bottoming out. (The smell of metal scraping blacktop carried across the porch on a summer breeze). I am from the maple tree blanketing our yard and suffering on a rocky beach sitting under tall trees with competing boom boxes and coolers full of meat and beer. I'm from sit down as a family dinners and a lack of communication. From Elsa and Luis. I'm from the protection of older brothers and the generosity of extended family. From my house, my rules and don't talk back. I'm from our father who arte in heaven every night and CCD every Sunday. I'm from New York by way of my family's journey out of Cuba. From cafe con leche, frijoles, and flan From the ischemic stroke that made me a survivor, a warrior on 8 August, 2020. I'm Later this month I will be trained as a mindfulness facilitator for the Love Your Brain foundation. This piece was written as part of the pre-work through a Skill in Action practice from Michelle Cassandra Johnson's book, Skill in Action. The template was based on George Ella Lyon’s poem "Where I'm From".
The Animation was created using Doodly |
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