“A Day in my Life”
The alarm buzzes, and I groggily slap my phone screen. Another morning in Virginia. I roll out of bed, shuffling to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in hopes that it shocks me awake. I pull on jeans, a top, and my usual sneakers—functional, but not exciting. While brushing my hair, I stare at my reflection and imagine getting ready in a hotel in Santiago. Maybe I’d throw on a light jacket because the mornings are crisp, or maybe I’d already hear the sound of the city waking up—horns honking, street vendors calling out, life happening outside my window. Instead, I step into the quiet, gray morning of Fredericksburg, where the biggest sound is the distant rumble of a delivery truck.
Downtown Fredericksburg has its charm, but today, I can’t stop comparing it to Santiago. I walk along Caroline Street, past brick buildings and local shops, but in my mind, I’m strolling through Bellavista, where the walls explode with color, murals stretching across the city like an open-air museum. I stop for soda at SippinPop, sipping the sweet drink while scrolling through my phone. Photos of Cerro San Cristóbal flood my feed, the view stretching endlessly over the city. My class at UMW isn’t for another hour, but I already know how it’ll go—slides, discussion, a few scattered notes I’ll struggle to review later. I’d rather be in a class at Pontificia Universidad Católica, listening to Spanish swirl around me, my brain working twice as hard to keep up.
After class, it’s time for work. The usual routine—filling papers, making small talk, feeling the hours drag. At least when I stop at CAVA for dinner, there’s a brief moment of joy. The warm, spiced food wakes up my senses, and I let myself pretend, just for a second, that I’m somewhere else. Maybe sitting in a tiny café in Lastarria, the scent of fresh empanadas in the air. But the illusion fades as I toss my trash and step back into the Virginia night. When I finally collapse on the couch, TV remote in hand, I flip through channels without really watching. My mind is elsewhere, lost in a place I haven’t been yet but already miss. One day, I tell myself. One day, I’ll wake up, and the view outside my window won’t be a parking lot—it’ll be Santiago.