A few months back, I posted a facebook status that said, "One day not far from now, I will be in a local coffee shop with a bunch of my peers/friends talking about Chicano history. I will share the story of my family and feel empowered by the fact that everyone in the table has a piece of history to contribute to the world and all we have to do is listen and not forget." This is my dream.
I imagine myself being an educator with the heart of a revolutionary. I refuse to forget where I have been and where I come from. My place in the table at a local coffee shop will be a place that respect and appreciation has earned. My place in the table at the local coffee shop will be filled with passion, warmth, and beautiful things that only the colors of love and life can produce. I imagine this coffee shop being filled with the memories that people have had there and by the tiny pieces of souls left behind which can only be the result of the hundreds of stories that have been told in this establishment.
I do not know where this local coffee shop is and I do not know who will be around the table. All I do know is that when I get there, life will change as I know it.
