I landed in America on March 31, 2001. But when I look back at my life in this country, I feel that my real life here began on September 11, 2001…

At the time, I had only been in the United States for a few months. After spending some time in Houston, I had just moved to South Florida and was staying at my aunt’s house. I was still new to the American lifestyle, trying to understand this country and figure out what my future here would be.

That morning, I woke up around 9 a.m. Everyone had already gone to work. I turned on the TV, which was tuned to Telemundo, my aunt’s favorite channel.

I saw what looked like a movie about airplanes and changed the channel while making myself some coffee. But the next channel seemed to be showing the same kind of movie. I remember thinking, “How strange that two channels are showing Die Hard at the same time…”

Then I heard words I will never forget: “Oh, my God! Another plane just hit the building!” 

Later on that night, I went to work my shift as a barback at a bar in downtown Hollywood. The bar was full, but something felt different. People were drinking while watching the news in complete silence. I remember Kelly, one of the bartenders, hanging a small American flag behind the bar. When she finished, I saw her crying. As I walked around picking up dirty glasses, I looked at the people around me. They were crying too. Strangers sitting together in silence, watching their country change forever. That image has never left me.

I was still a newcomer trying to find my place in America. But on that day, something changed. 

For the first time, I wasn’t watching America from the outside. I was experiencing something with America. 

I was scared with it, confused with it, and grieving with it.

Maybe I arrived in America on March 31, 2001, but September 11, 2001, was the day I realized that America was no longer just the country where I was trying to build my future. It was the country where my life was happening, and without knowing it at the time, that was the day my story in America really began.

Looking back now, after 25 years in this country, I realize how many moments have helped shape the person I became. 

Some were big. Some were small. Some changed my life completely, while others may have seemed insignificant at the time but somehow stayed with me forever.

There were dreams that came true and dreams that changed. Friendships, places, mistakes, surprises, heartbreaks, and memories that became part of who I am. And there was always a soundtrack.

The songs playing in the background during certain moments. The lyrics that suddenly seemed to understand exactly what I was feeling. The voices, sounds, melodies, and tunes that can still take me back to a person, a place, or a moment in seconds.

Because sometimes a memory doesn’t come back as a picture. Sometimes, it comes back as a sound.

So this is the beginning of a new blog series about the most definitive moments of my first 25 years living in America since arriving in 2001.

The moments that changed me, the people who became part of my story, the places I called home, and the music and sounds that became the soundtrack along the way.

Twenty-five years. Countless memories. And finally, it’s time to start telling the story…