So, here is my proposal. Not a nostalgic retreat—a return .
The steamship is still there. It’s still sailing. And the gangplank is still down.
The Steamship Never Really Docks: On Childhood, Memory, and the Voyage of the Inner Child
But as I sit here, years away from the last time I cracked open a copy of Fray Perico y su borrico or El Pirata Garrapata , I realize that I never actually disembarked. None of us did. We just stopped looking at the ticket.
Let’s remember that the best journeys are not the ones where we arrive quickly, but the ones where the fog clears for just a moment, and we see the red smokestack in the distance, and we realize: We were never alone.
But here is the secret that El Barco de Vapor knew all along: You just walked away from the dock.
Because that is what the steamship is. It is a time machine powered by vulnerability.
All you have to do is step on.