The Old and the New
"I said let's go. We'll stop at Teresita's house," my sister says, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of my seat and out of the theater.
Calle Frexes, where Teresita lives, is a street of contrast. One side boasts big, old Spanish colonial houses without portals. The windows and wrought iron verandas reach the floor, and, like our house, the front doors open to the sidewalk.
The opposite side of the street is lined with two-story, modern duplexes. Teresita and her family live on the second floor of a duplex. The gate at the entrance, always open, is an invitation into the tiled courtyard garden full of tropical greenery of all sizes. A refreshing feeling invades all my senses as soon as I walk in, I could stay in this cool, inviting spot forever. The stairs to the second floor are against the wall to the right and lead to a spacious balcony. The new doesn't show signs of decay yet.
The block window spy across the street is at her post. Before entering the courtyard, I cast my gaze on her. This is my way of fighting back; a silent gaze speaks volumes. I know what you are doing.
The inside of the house is as enchanting as the courtyard. It is modern, and the couch is upholstered—they call it a divan. Everyone I know has solid wood mission furniture. There’s a piano! In the dining room, a hidden stairway leads to the first-floor unit. "Woo-hoo!" Memories of crawling through the narrow stairs with its dark, low ceiling, cobwebs, and damp smell are out of a mystery movie. It wasn't long ago, but I know doing it again won't feel the same.
© Dania Herrera Nasca
April 25, 2025
