Te conozco

I’ve seen the same face over and over.

My father’s exhausted eyes are not just in my home but out in the real world.

A yardero, a roofero, a carpentero, a plomero.

All with the same tired look on their face.

Some like my father with dark spots on their skin from working hours in the sun.

Some who work in the shade with flawless skin but callused hands, crooked fingers, cuts and bruises.

What are they thinking while they’re at work?

“Apúrate, hombre, vamos a acabar esto para irnos a la casa.”

They must be aware that no matter how fast they go there is always more work.

Clock out time isn’t always the same.

What are they thinking?

What is my daughter doing?

Is my son being good?

What is my wife cooking?

Is he like me? Is his bed calling his name?

Do grown ups think about their beds?

Is he thinking of nothing at all?

Is his identity check-out when he walks out of the house?

Does he become a robot, doing the same thing over and over?

I’ve seen the same face over and over.

I look over and there is a yardero packed into a truck.

One man is asleep, one is driving, the other looking into the distance.

I look over and there is a man sitting next to his lunch box, on the train with his eyes closed.

I look over and there is a husband and wife carrying a yellow envelope, looking lost in the big city.

Te conozco porque no eres el único.

 ∴

Doraneli Gutierrez is a recent graduate of Roosevelt University following her dreams of becoming a writer. For more writing follow her Instagram @doranelig