My name is Karla and I have a Bachelor’s degree in Media Communications.I’m originally from Mexico but in 2006 I moved to Singapore and In 2011 I relocated to Vancouver. I’ve worked at the Embassy of Mexico in Singapore and at the Consulate of Mexico in Vancouver; this experience has provided me with the opportunity to interact with a diverse multicultural group.Although I’m not a professional writer, writing has always been a very important part of my life.
Summer
At the beginning of summer my family and me met with some friends for lunch. One of our friends mentioned that they had just come back from camping at Rathtrevor Beach Provincial Park and that it was magnificent. At Rathtrevor, he said, “the tide goes out to stretch for what feels like miles, there are micro-crabs, perfect Sand dollars, kids can ride their bikes along the campsite, there are beautiful hiking trails and at night you can lay down and look at the stars.” He talked about this place with such passion that the minute I got home I started looking for campsite reservations and was lucky enough to find one campsite available for the next weekend.
When the time came for us to go, I realized it was starting to rain, unfortunately I had forgotten to check the weather forecast before making the reservation and we realized it was going to be raining the whole weekend. My first instinct was to cancel the trip, but my husband insisted on going, “a little bit of rain is not reason enough to cancel” he said.
As we were driving to the campsite I looked through the window and, as the drops of rain were falling, I started getting even more nervous. I began checking the weather forecast continuously as if by checking it ever few seconds I could cast a spell on it to make it better. I was biting my nails and complaining continuously.
My husband could see my anxiety so held my hand and said, “we are going to be alright, the rain will ease off you’ll see”. He was smiling and my daughter was singing, but I was freaking out. I couldn’t cancel the trip and I couldn’t stop the rain, so my only alternative was to let go and wait. The problem is that I’m not very good at that. I didn’t want my husband to tell me everything was going to be alright, I wanted him to solve it and to do it quickly. I could feel the anger rushing through my veins, but my husband kept on holding my hand and my daughter kept on singing.
I’m not sure exactly what made me snap out of my loop of rage, maybe it was my husband’s smile, or my daughter’s voice, all I know is that somehow the rain stopped being important. Something made me realize that us, anywhere, together, regardless of the weather was all I need, and for that I was grateful.
