My name, Abril, is Spanish and translates to April. Family, mostly siblings, sometimes call me April, but I prefer Abril because personally, I think it sounds beautiful. Pronounced: aa-BRIY-L. Through the years I’ve had many nicknames, but the one that’s stuck the most is Abi. As you can tell by my name, I am Latina. More specifically speaking though, I am Mexican, and as such, you can correctly assume, salsa naturally runs through my veins; therefore, expect a lot of feistiness, sass, and Spanglish from this blog.
The first half of my life, I lived on a ranch in Mexico with my grandparents, who raised my sister, Selene and I. My childhood consisted of chasing pigs, pretending to help herd cows, and picking fresh eggs in the mornings. Playing in the streets with chimpuda hair (Chimpuda: Spanish for crazy, flying in the wind hair girl) was my afternoon ritual, and I loved the way the water felt when I jumped in rain puddles in my huaraches. Oh, and how could I forget “helping” my grandpa in the bean fields. Best. Childhood. Everrrr!
At the young age of two and a half, my grandfather began to teach me how to read, write, and solve basic math. By age four, I could effortlessly do all three. We spent a lot of days in a bright room towards the back of the house. The morning sunlight perfectly lit up the wall behind a wobbly little desk that leaned against Pappa’s squeaky, napping bed. Engraved in my memory are the mornings when I would struggle to read him stories from an old history book, while he laid there with his eyes closed. Some days he would ask me math question like “What is nine plus two?” or “Without looking, can you recite your favorite multiplication table?” Other days he would sit up by the edge of the bed and patiently watch me write and correct me when I made mistakes. (Photo below: my mom and my grandparents)
A tiny town, in the middle of mountains, with dirt roads, a farming population of 3,000, and almost 300 dwellings, was my hometown for nearly twelve years, and the best thing from my childhood. A colorful adobe house, painted every few years, to refresh the color or change it, was my home, leaky roof and all. At the sound of thunder, a water catching bucket placement ritual strategically took place throughout the house. A TV that looked like a time machine, and I was the remote control, was placed above the refrigerator, in the kitchen. Every time the channel needed switching, I would climb on a chair, and struggle to twist that little black knob to the right. A whopping two channels displayed the news and Telenovelas, aka soap operas, which promptly came on at 6:00 PM. We didn’t have running water or water heaters. Long hot showers were a luxury and available, thanks to a water boiler my grandfather installed right outside the shower. When we were to take a shower, like a chimney, we would fill the boiler with wood, light it, and wait until we had a stable fire. Thirty minutes later, give or take ten minutes, I had the green light or at least reassurance the water wouldn’t freeze me half to death. Sundays my sister and I would walk to bible school, approximately three blocks away. During the summer, all the grandkids would be round up and taken to the bean fields to help pick up the harvest for the year. At the end of the season, as a form of payment, we were given a small bucket of beans, which we could trade in for a few Pesos at the local market. The pesos quickly disappeared though as our bellies overfilled with candy. In our smiles was the hint of gratification and the feeling hard work paid off. The aftermath of the dry and crunchy bean plants was one of my favorite things at the end of summer. The plants’ carcasses were gathered and piled, in my grandparent’s corral, which meant we could use it as a trampoline. Some afternoons after we completed our homework, we were allowed to jump on it as long as we wanted to. Well, at least until Mamma said it was ok. Our beloved trampoline would eventually dwindle down to dirt though, as it was food for the cattle. Thankfully the hope for a new trampoline resurfaced with the beginning of each crop season.
As a child, I never realized how poor we truly were. We never felt like we were missing anything; I guess because we had everything we needed, food, clothes, shoes, school supplies, but most importantly, love. It wasn’t until many years later when I went back and saw the children playing in the streets like my sister, and I used to; I noticed how poor the children looked and how the houses looked so different in comparison. The quote, “You can’t miss what you don’t have” strongly resonated with me then because those children looked so happy. And to think there were families more unfortunate than us. (Photo to the right: Evidence of my chimpuda hair. Haha! Chimpuda was another nickname my uncles used. Cameras were also a luxury and unfortunately, I don’t have many pictures of my childhood.)
My life drastically changed at the age of twelve, when my sister and I moved to America to live with my mom and new Dad, a man who I love and respect for having the courage to adopt us and raise us both as his own. When we initially arrived, we had no idea how to speak, write or spell a single word in English. It was the hardest experience of my life. My accent and inability to put sentences together were ridiculed on the playgrounds and in the classroom by kids who didn’t understand or seemed to care. Mockery and scorn lingered around me, so I used it to fuel me. At my request, my ESOL teacher, Mrs. Lemus, who saw my desire to learn, allowed me to take two exams on exam day. One test in English and one in Spanish. God bless that sweet woman; I’ll never forget her, or that green dictionary, I carried around everywhere to help me translate. The pages got so worn out they were practically held together by a few strings and faith. I loved that thing, it was my best friend, and the only friend I had for some time. Thankfully, I picked up the language in a year and now I even write in a blog. Ha!
Moving to a new country was challenging and extremely difficult. Talk about severe life shock. Like Drake says, we went from zero to a hundred REAL QUICK! A new family, new culture, new city, new school, a new language and pretty much new everything else. Yep, real freaking quick. In the midsts of all the chaos though, there were unforgettable days full of discovery and life-changing things like fast food. The day my dad took us to Burger King for the first time ever; he pulled up to the drive-thru and ordered. My sister and I, two innocent little girls, who had now idea what fast food was, sat in the back seat of that green Chevy with no idea what was about to happen. When handed the happy meal, we didn’t know what to do, so my mom instructed us to open it, and as we did, we could not believe our eyes. Food and a toy. (“Whatttt? Food and a toy? I love this place”). My sister and I looked at each other like we had just hit the jackpot. Fast food was our first experience of an American life. We were twelve and ten.
Middle school and high school were a lot easier. Not only had I learned the language but I began to adapt to my new life as a big sister in a unit of five kids. Studying became a priority and an easy habit to remember because I loved to learn. To this day my thirst for knowledge is strong. I received diplomas like “most improved student” and “A Honor Roll.” In eighth grade, the clarinet helped me discover my musical talent when I joined the band. Freshman year, I was featured on the local newspaper as Freshman of The Week and invited to a lunch, where my parents sat proudly by my side. My clarinet and I also made it to state that year. My focus shifted to college soon after, and I joined all the AP classes I could. They were challenging, with English being my second language but I learned so much. In high school, I wasn’t popular by any means. I wasn’t homecoming queen, heck I bet half the school didn’t even know I existed because I was shy, reserved and a total nerd which was cool with me. Much later I realized almost everyone in high school goes through a weird stage and no one knows what the heck they are doing. My senior year, I applied for so many scholarships, that I lost count. Thankfully, I got more than enough to cover my first two years in college. Guess my nerdiness paid off. After graduation, I got my first job and began working approximately thirty hours a week while taking a full load in college. It was hard, but I started to dream of a career. A dream that only grew stronger through the years. Sophomore year in college I met my husband, Cecil. We studied together and challenged each other to be better students.
Soon, graduation day arrived. The announcer called out my name, and I proudly walked across that stage as the first to graduate college in my family. (Two weeks after graduation, Cecil and I tied the knot). My dream of working in a corporate company was closer than I ever imagined (or so I thought that was my dream). Then reality hit and I couldn’t find a job for months. Hundreds of job applications and nothing. I vividly remember bursting into tears in front of two neighbors who I barely knew when they asked me how I was doing. Shocked by my despair, I put on my big girl panties and decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. (Get it together Abril!). After nearly four months, I got my first job which launched my business career. I established my self as a business professional in Finance and Accounting and loved every minute of it.
It took me years but I realized my aspirations in life were much bigger than working in the corporate world. Just when I started questioning things, my working status changed to “currently on hold” when we got the opportunity to live in Europe in 2016. Despite all the challenges of moving to America, I moved yet again to a new country. We tossed all caution to the wind and moved our comfortable Texas life to Germany where I struggled to survive the winters I lived for three years and traveled all of Europe. This time, I adjusted much quicker. The language, however, is a different story. German is hard and with Spanish being my native language, it was even harder. Thankfully experience and time have grounded me and taught me a thing or two about adjusting to hard situations. After all, life is about enjoying the journey. Never the less, moving across the pond was the adventure of a lifetime, and I am so glad we took it! I will never forget Germany, all the travel, and the laid back lifestyle of the Europeans.
In 2019, we packed our things once again and moved back to Houston, where we plan on staying for a while. (No more packing/unpacking please!) Cecil got the job of his dreams and left to go to training. Three months of training for Cecil and three month of chaos for me. I was tasked with finding us a home, and getting our life settled in, all while getting back into the workforce. When I finally found a house, I decided the entire upstairs needed to be renovated before our house-hold goods arrived from Germany (because moving wasn’t enough and I could totally handle a major renovation, not). Chaos does not begin to describe it.
Eventually things settled down. The renovation, although long, finally came to an end. The packed boxes were slowly emptied and disappeared. Cecil came back home from training and we got started on DIYing our house.
In 2020, while remodeling our garage, I felt exhausted and found out a tiny baby was growing in my belly. Best feeling ever! Spring 2021, we welcomed our sweet baby girl, Arie. She is perfect in every way and I adore her more than words could ever say. Babies are an incredible blessing and the title of Mother is the highest honor I’ve ever had.
When I am not writing
When I am not writing, I am busy DYIng with Cecil and our pups (well my boy, Charlie, passed and I still can’t get over it so we won’t mention anything further). Cecil didn’t know it at the time but he took on a second job as my personal photographer when I started this blog. He is a good man who inspires me to be better every single day. It doesn’t matter what dream I am chasing, he is my biggest supporter.
LIFE LESSONS
Life has taught me nothing is here forever, everything is ever-changing, and quitting is not an option. The different cultures I’ve experienced have taught me to appreciate history and our ancestors. The people I’ve met along the way have encouraged me to embrace my story through their own stories. The places I’ve been to, have shown me indescribable beauty, forever imprinted in my heart and memory. Grateful is the only word I can use to describe how I feel on a daily basis.
Turns out moving to a new country is hard, uncomfortable and an incredible adventure. Many people say “oh I’d love to move to a different country if I got the chance” but if the received the opportunity, most people would chose to stay in the same spot. Why? Because fear keeps them stuck (often for a lifetime). They are terrified to jump, and be uncomfortable. They are afraid of living. This blog is here to inspire you to go your own direction, jump, scared and all. Take a chance and live every single day with mindfulness, gratitude, purpose, and joy.
The break in Europe changed me for the better. For lack of better words, I found joy (real inner joy) and mindfulness, through meditation and reading books. I discovered what life means to me and how I want to live everyday. More importantly, divine timing forced me accept that everything always works out as it should. This brought me peace, and I am incredibly grateful for that journey. I came back with a different perspective, a new mindset, completely different outlook on life and with the realization that everything is always working out for me.
Believe me, when I say, I know how hard life can be. At one point or another, we’ve all faced adversity, trials and tribulations, and/ or some type of obstacle in our lives. But it is how we chose to come out of those challenges that define us and our future. You and only you have the power to make this life worthwhile. Each day is a blessing, make them all count! Go out there, and fearlessly conquer each dream knowing your existence matters and it is a beautiful miracle. No matter who you are or where you’re from, you are capable of accomplishing incredible things. Believe with your whole heart in your power and ability to write your own story, and you will have everything you need.
Today, I thank God for inspiring me with His words to” write”, and for giving me the courage, patience, and tools to start this blog. I believe that He is always present and knows my heart best. Deep down, I imagine He wants me to fulfill a part of my destiny by inspiring, and improving the lives of others through writing.
This life is magical!!! It can take you on one hell of an unforgettable and fascinating ride if you just let it. So let go and let it!
From the bottom of my heart, Gracias!
With Love and Gratitude always,
