Week 16: Perfect Hidden in the Imperfect

3–4 minutes

Dear you,

This weekend I went to Medellín, a city that feels alive in every corner. I wandered through Comuna 13, visited the Pablo Escobar Museum, climbed El Peñón de Guatapé, and explored the colourful town below. I rode cable cars, fed animals, and stood still to watch the city glitter under the night sky.

Medellín is mesmerizing. The way the lights shimmer across the hills, the warmth of strangers, the endless movement, the layered history. It all hums with life. I’m starting to notice a theme here in Colombia: beauty and resilience coexist everywhere.

The people of Medellín survived both cartel and government violence, yet they rebuilt their city brick by brick, turning pain into something the world now comes to admire. It’s humbling. Humans have this rare ability to take what’s been broken and transform it; to fix, to build, to create together. Even when a few destroy, many more choose to heal.

Seeing another side of Colombia reminded me that while each city is unique, there’s a common thread that runs through them all: warmth, vibrancy, life. If you’ve never been here, add it to your list. This country changes you in ways that are hard to describe.

Throughout the trip, I had quiet moments alone. Moments where gratitude felt like it was pouring through me. To be here, in this exact place and time, feels like a gift. Yet even then, I found myself whispering the same thought: I wish my people were with me.

It’s strange how you can be surrounded by beauty, living a dream, and still feel something missing. I stood on top of El Peñón de Guatapé, watching the blue birds circle and soar around the rock. With the birds I’ll share this lonely view.

The word perfect has been occupying in my mind. I used to think that once I lived abroad and travelled, once I reached this dream, life would finally be perfect. But perfection doesn’t exist, at least not in the way we imagine it. It’s not a flawless state, frozen in time. Maybe perfect is found in the imperfect? In moments that are fleeting, fragile, and real.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a perfect day. But I’ve had perfect days. Maybe every day holds a little perfection if you look for it. Maybe it’s just a matter of where you place your focus, on what’s missing or on what’s here.

Yes, I kept thinking, I wish my people were with me. But the trip was still perfect in its own way. A culmination of everything I’ve dreamed about for years. Missing home doesn’t make it less beautiful; it just makes it human. Still, I notice that when I let those thoughts take over, they start to pull me out of the moment, and that’s when they become something heavier.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. I think that’s true. I miss home so much it aches in a way I’ve never felt before. All the things I once wanted to escape, I did. And yet now, I find myself wanting to run back.

It’s an endless cycle of realizations and emotions, but there’s beauty in that too. I love the growth, the way I can feel my body shift with every realization. Like my mind is stretching and rearranging itself to make room for something new. Everything feels clearer here. A side effect of this in-between stage of life.

These moments of clarity come faster than they ever did back home in Canada. Maybe that’s what being alone, truly alone, does. It peels back the noise and leaves you with nothing but truth.

Maybe I can learn something from the people of Colombia. I can learn to be resilient. To build myself alone, brick by brick. Even when I do not feel whole on an imperfect day. But I can focus on the perfect moments within it, because perfection isn’t held within the day itself, it’s hidden in the moments we choose to notice it. Perfect hidden within the perfect.

From,

Cali