Inklings 2021

WELCOME HOME Victoria Davis After six hours in a cramped airplane, I’m eager to descend. The yearly voyage, Another summer in my mother’s homeland. I step outside the aircraft, My nose recognizes the nostalgic smell of Lima. Dusty air, smoky skies, A thick layer of fog coats the city as she sleeps. A smile stretches across my face. I spot ​Abuelo ​smiling among the tired airport faces. He waits for us in his usual spot atop the escalator. Waving fervently, Gifts in hand - as always. He showers my siblings and me with trinkets and knick knacks The scent of his worn leather jacket tells me I’m home. I shiver in the backseat of the car as my body remembers that it’s winter in Peru. I press my nose against the cold car window, My breath fogs up the glass. We drive along the meandering roads that wind up the cliffside. I hear the sounds of the Pacific Ocean to my right, An orchestra of waves celebrating my arrival. We arrive at my aunt’s apartment, The familiar clanking of the elevator door welcomes me back. My heart thumps with anticipation. I leap into the arms of Martina, my cousin with hair as red as the Peruvian flag. I then embrace Arianna, the surfer who still smells of the sea. The grand feast commences. Abuelo​brings his famous ​empanadas,​ cooked to golden perfection, the color of the Atacama desert. My aunt pours everyone a glass of ​chicha morada,​ I close my eyes and savor the purple corn beverage, A sweet reminder of my childhood. Uproarious laughter fills the dining room as we exchange stories and memories. Spanish and English intertwine, We speak a language only we can understand. In the presence of family, I know I’m where I belong.