¡Changaro!

Pues la casa.  El cantón.  The place you call home.  Where you live.  You know, ¡el changaro!  That place that starts out with a couple of walls, a door, a window, or two, a place to sleep in, to sit down and have meals in, to watch whatever you want to on TV without anyone protesting.  That place where you can walk around naked if you damned well please!  And hey, we all do every once in a while.

No shame in admitting it.

It’s funny how a roof over our heads, a tub, a toilet, a fridge, a stove, can turn into things that make us feel safe and stable.  The place where we can be ourselves, behind closed doors, where nobody from the outside world is looking at us… staring at us… judging us.  The sense of intimacy that we build with those we share our innermost selves.  A house turns into a home.  A home a family.  A family a part of us.  A portion of our hearts, and who we are.  Forever.

It really is forever.  Even after we leave.  No matter how many pages we turn on the road of life, a home, a real home, like one where there is love and compassion, understanding, forgiveness, and peace, a home like that, is ours forever.

And today’s Mexi-Vocabulario means precisely that.  A home.  There weren’t really any good definitions for this one online, but trust me.  Changaro is home.  May we all build beautiful changaros to call our homes.  And remember for always all of the beautiful homes we’ve been fortunate enough to call our changaros.