I’m asked about what I like about Wisconsin; I can’t think of anything, but then, get to remembering my childhood in Milwaukee.

I think about when I was ten years old, walking down the boardwalk past Discovery World, along Lake Michigan; the bright blue-green lake interrupted by a shadow of a larger-than-life hawk spreading its wings; the Milwaukee Art Museum.  The coolest thing about the Milwaukee Art Museum arguably; the wings that seem to flap in very slow motion, all day.  

My classmates chatter to distract themselves from the cold breeze on a cold spring day, taking the chaperones’ phones to take over-exposed pictures of the museum, glowing in the sun.  

Then, I am at the Public Market with my mom at Margarita Paradise—a Mexican restaurant/bar.  I recall listening to the cooks chatter back and forth in Spanish, and one of the cooks looking at me and asking if I speak Spanish.  At the time, I had had little exposure to foreign languages.  Constantly bound to the small community that occupied my entire life at that age, it surprised me that someone had asked me if I spoke Spanish, who actually speaks spanish—instead of the regular kids at school who asked for no reason.  

“No,” I reply.

“He’s adopted,” my mom says, interrupting me.  

The cook who had struck up the conversation with me continued the conversation with genuine interest; he continues, “oh, that’s cool.  Where from?”

“Guatemala,” I respond 

“Wow.  You’re not gonna believe this, but that’s where I’m from.”

My mom’s face and my face light up at the same time, brighter than the Discovery World art installation in the sun.  

“That’s so cool,” I respond, my limited vocabulary not being able to express the awe I was in.

Looking back, I remember my exact thoughts: there is no way the world is this small.

The concept of “it’s a small world after all” has morphed in meaning throughout my life.  

“There is no way the world is this small!” a funny phrase I had learned at school, back when idioms were a fun way to show off my knowledge.  “It’s a small world after all,” a little joke I would occasionally say to myself when I experienced deja vu.

“There is no way the world is this small.”  a phrase that made me feel trapped and hopeless.  I had felt like I was bound to this small community for the rest of my life. 

“There is no way the world is this small.” the hopeful phrase that my mind repeats in times of crisis, frustration, or anger.  

All of these feelings and thoughts, sparked solely from the discussion of memories from Milwaukee.  The school trips, the people I’ve met, and the experiences I have gained could not have been done without the city of Milwaukee.  I think I now know what I like about Wisconsin.