Mosdenea

Chapter 1--Meeting A Mosdenea

Michigan is a beautiful state don't get me wrong. But Florida? The only beach I had ever gone to was the sand that boarded Lake Michigan and Lake Huron. The beach in Florida was completely different. It was salt. Not Lake Michigan salty, but actual Atlantic ocean salt. 

It sounds stupid and childish to have a mind like mine. To say these things in Miami when I know half the people here don't even hesitate when thinking about what the beach is. It was just a complete different world to me. I wasn't surrounded by giant pine trees anymore, they all seemed replaced with palm trees. I had never heard any Latino music before arriving here. The closest I'd ever come close to listening to Latin music was when Pitbull was featured on a pop song. 

One if the worst things about coming from Michigan and moving to Miami is the fact I'm paler than paper. Walking down the streets I look like a ghost compared to everyone else. Not even the summers in Michigan were as hot as it is here. I was so accustomed to always wearing layers of clothes that seeing people in see-through shirts, shorts, sometimes just walking around in swimwear--was completely baffling. I didn't want to feel self-conscious about how I looked. I think the reason I did was because now I became a part of this community--whatever the actual name for it is--but I looked like a complete tourist. 

My first couple days in Miami involved going to campus to set myself up with everything and then going to the beach or the pool. I got a sunburn my first day out and realized that adapting was going to be a lot more difficult. The heat and humidity was slowly becoming more unbearable the longer I was out. 

When I finally finished placing all the fliers out on campus, I decided it was time to head back to the apartment. There was still a lot of unpacking I had to do that I always seemed to put off. My apartment was situated on the 18th story of a building. All my neighbors were basically composed of elderly men and women who retired in Florida. Some of them looked like old leather bags from the amount of tanning they would do. Seeing old people sag wasn't my ideal image of going to the beach, but they were friendly. At least, some of them were.

It's not to say there weren't young people in the building. Other than all the old retired folk, there's a few families that have young kids. Apparently there is a public school nearby which means a lot of families are attracted to the neighborhood. The other thing I realized about my neighbors is that they all come from different countries. Disregarding age, most people in the building are Latin, others Russian, some are European or Middle Eastern. It's just surprising to enter the elevator and suddenly be listening to people talk all sorts of languages.

The security guard nodded in my direction as I walked by the lobby to the elevator. My backpack was still full of printed fliers I needed to pass out. Maybe instead of only placing them around campus I could start posting them around the town. Except, if I told my mom I was allowing people from the streets to live with me there was a high possibility she would get on the next flight to Miami. I sighed as I walked down the hallway to my apartment.

Even from over a thousand miles away I felt like I was being watched and monitored. It was a constant feeling I had when I lived in Michigan. I hate being micromanaged which is why I moved down here in the first place. My parents are friends with some of the professors back home at the university. The professors would ask how I was doing. They would sit with me and tell me what classes I should take. Sometimes they would try and convince me to switch out of my major. 

The day I couldn't take it anymore, I snapped. Now I was just in the constant fear that they would still somehow manage to show up. Even as an adult, my parents treat me like a child. I think it has to do with the fact that I'm their youngest child and only daughter in a house with three boys. My mother was going through serious empty nest syndrome when I graduated.