Childhood

Part I

Over the hills,

far from the Atlantic ocean

I saw in the swimming pool 

a wave.

Hopelessly calling my name,

18 years later.

Part II

Mom was a water person,

prone to cliff jumps,

and water ski dances.

Dad was not, even in his wildest dreams, 

a beach goer. 

It makes me wonder about his 9 months in

grandma's Ilca womb. 

Part III 

The descent to the Atlantic 

was as exciting as homemade chicken 

pâté served with potato buns,

guaraná and barefoot walks.

The last wasn't served, but a necessity. 

Time is relentless. 

Sometimes it must be confronted.