From NYC to Lackland AFB

Alright y’all here we go. Let me tell you about where I’m from and how it all started.

I was born in Manhattan, NY and raised in the Bronx. The Marble Hill Projects on 228^th Street were my home for 19 years of my life. I was raised by my maternal grandparents, Rafael and Arabella and my mother, Gloria.

I’m my mother’s only child, but I wasn’t the only child at home (thankfully). My two cousins (more like my sisters) Judy and Nadia lived in the house too. Judy is my big sister in every single way that matters, and I adore her. Me and Nadia used to be close, but personality conflicts happened … I do miss her and the laughs we shared.

Being the baby in the house came with some perks. I slept in grandma’s bed a lot and would tuck myself under her (true story). Bless her spirit because she never once sent me away. As I got a little older, I would share a twin bed with Judy or Nadia. Til this day, Judy tells the story about how I would wrap her feet under my pillow and cuddle them to go to sleep … I don’t have answers as to why I did this and yes, I laugh at myself.

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My grandparents were separated but still legally married. Grandpa lived in an apartment about 10-15 minutes away and came by to see us all the time. My grandfather was the best grandpa/dad. We called him our Popeye because he hit the gym every single day. My grandmother was literally the best grandma, EVER. She was and forever will be “my person”. My mother left my sperm donor (he will forever be addressed as such) when I was a baby.

Grandpa never disciplined us, but he did come down on us when needed. There was something about hearing his disappointment that hit you right in your feelings. My grandmother and mom were the disciplinarians. My grandmother must’ve softened up with age (according to my mom) because although she would “pop me” and “whoop my ass”, she was always the adult I ran to and confided in. Plus, as “hard” as she was on us, we got away with more than we should have … lol. I had a hard time with my mother … I will make a separate post about that.

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Spanish is my first language (although most don’t believe me because they expect an accent from those of us who didn’t learn English first). Grandma didn’t speak English … or so she used to say – I swear she was understanding us when we tried being slick by speaking crazy in English (LOL). My Cuban home was perfect, and I count myself so blessed for having such a rich and gorgeous culture. Of course, everyone says their grandmother was the best cook but mine … well, there are plenty who can back me up on this.

One of the best parts of my childhood was learning to cook by watching grandma and annoying her by always being in the way. I just had to know her secrets. I wish I would’ve written down more of her recipes, especially for flan. When I say it was AMAZING … oh my goodness it was amazing! People would ask her to make it all the time and she of course did.

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Moving right along … I’ve worked to take care of myself and my family since the summer before I turned 14. I haven’t stopped working since (I kinda like this). What jobs did I have? Great question!!! I’ve worked as a cashier at a grocery store, a waitress, hostess and more. Instead of playing sports, I left school to go work and then went home to get my homework done.

This was life all through high school … paying the tuition for the private Catholic school I was forced to attend was more important (negative feelings towards mom stem from this). However, I love her and eventually forgave her – I know she did her best. Growing and reading about forgiveness and happiness helped me reach the point of forgiving her. These books helped me a lot Think Like a Monk and The Art of Happiness.

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During my second semester of college, I decided I didn’t want to live in NYC anymore or struggle the way I was. I was working long hours and a full-time student … I wanted and needed more. My ex-boyfriend had joined the Air Force the summer before and it seemed pretty straight forward so in February 2005, I walked into the recruiter’s office on Fordham Rd and signed my life away (LOL). Unfortunately, the job I wanted wasn’t open, so I decided to wait and see if it came open … it never did. Tired of waiting, I told my recruiter I needed to leave and on 21 June 2005 I arrived at Lackland Air Force Base for BMT.

Stay tuned for more …