December is a marathon of joy. Between El Día de las Velitas (Day of the Little Candles), where we line the streets with flickering lights, and the Novenas , where we gather to sing and eat buñuelos and natilla , the atmosphere is electric.

I realized then that my childhood was a bubble. The violence I had only heard about on the radio was real, and it had faces, and it was hungry.

Saturdays and Sundays are reserved for grand family gatherings. The kitchen becomes the heart of the home, filled with the rich, comforting aroma of traditional cooking. As a young girl, your first culinary lessons happen here, watching your mother or grandmother deftly patting white cornmeal into perfectly round arepas , or simmering a massive pot of sancocho or ajiaco for Sunday lunch. These moments are about much more than food; they are a passing of the torch, where oral histories, family gossip, and life lessons are shared over the steam of a cooking pot. A Playground of Biodiversity

You learned that life is fragile. You learned this at the velorio (wake) of a cousin, where the family gathered not just to cry, but to sing and drink coffee and tell jokes about the deceased. you learned that joy and grief are not opposites; they are two sides of the same shiny peso coin.

Growing up in Colombia means living in a world touched by what Gabriel García Márquez called magical realism. Superstitions and sweet traditions form the backdrop of daily life.

Little girls in Colombia are often surrounded by strong, nurturing women—mothers, grandmothers, and tías —who teach the importance of resilience, love, and hospitality.

Perhaps the most defining aspect of growing up in Colombia is the deep, unbreakable bond of family and community. In Colombian culture, family extends far beyond the immediate household; tías (aunts), primos (cousins), and abuelos (grandparents) are deeply integrated into daily life.

The phrase carries a profound weight. It represents a childhood lived at a vibrant, sensory-rich crossroads of magic, resilience, community, and culture. To grow up female in Colombia is to be immersed in a world where the landscapes are as dramatic as the history, and where the daily rhythm of life is scored by music, fueled by coffee, and bound by unbreakable family ties.

I was never just a girl. I was a keeper of stories. I was a dancer in a war zone. I was a thread in a tapestry woven from gold, blood, and coffee.

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Even as a little girl, you look forward to the "Quince." You watch your older sisters or cousins transform into princesses for a night, a rite of passage that whispers of the woman you will one day become. A Legacy of Resilience

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Every little girl watches the older girls celebrate their quinceañera (15th birthday)—a massive, princess-like rite of passage that blends a formal debut with a high-energy dance party, serving as a glittering beacon of the woman she will one day become. The Modern Colombian Woman: A Legacy of Strength

Religion and tradition also played massive roles in structuring our year. The Christmas season did not begin in late December; it began on December 7th with El Día de las Velitas (The Day of the Little Candles). As a little girl, waking up before dawn to line the sidewalks with hundreds of colored candles and paper lanterns was pure magic. We made wishes for our families, watched the flames flicker in the cool morning air, and ate buñuelos and natilla until we were full. Navigating Contrast and Resilience

Sharing is a central tenant of life. Whether it is sharing a snack with a friend or lending a hand to a neighbor, the spirit of generosity is instilled early. The Rhythm of Everyday Life