El Yunque: A Living Memory of Our Island

By Maite Rodríguez Márquez

Some places are not only visited, but carried forever in the soul. That is El Yunque for many: a little piece of our land that breathes us, sings to us, and calls to us from a distance.

© Maite Rodríguez Márquez

A beautiful forest of eternal greenery, in your embrace, we flourished.

Among ferns, bromeliads, and ancient trees, we grew up listening to the song of the coquí and learning the secret language of rain on the leaves. Your pure air, the lungs of our beloved island, enveloped us like a constant caress.

On gray Caribbean days, when the fog covers you and you hide from the valley, you seem to play at disappearing. But those of us who knew you well know that you are still there, firm, imposing, eternal. Our eyes, which learned to admire you as children, also learned to miss you.

For those of us who have had to leave, absence is measured in landscapes. And no plain soothes the soul like a mountain that resembles you. In the midst of the daily hustle and bustle, we endlessly search for something to restore us, even though we know there's no comparison. We drive for hours, plot routes, invent excuses... all to feel, even for a moment, close to you.

Because you, El Yunque, are more than a forest. You are a living memory, a silent refuge, and a symbol of what we never leave behind.

Coming back to you is coming home.