It’s been five years since I left Puerto Rico, forced out by the lack of economic opportunities as a young journalist. While in the diaspora, I’ve been able to achieve things I had never imagined I could, but the price I have paid is steep. There are the births, the celebrations, the holidays, and the little daily moments I’ve missed. My parents and abuelita have grown older; my brother and friends have built a life for themselves that I can often only glimpse at from afar. With more than 5.4 million boricuas living stateside and only about 3.2 million on the island, there are more of us spread around the world than back home. And for many of us, the diaspora is constant pain and longing. Puerto Rican composer and singer Noel Estrada said it best when he wrote “ En Mi Viejo San Juan ” in 1942. “Una tarde me fuí hacia a extraña nación, pues lo quiso el destino. Pero mi corazón se quedó frente al mar, en mi viejo San Juan.” It translates to: “One afternoon I left for a strange nation, for it was destiny. But my heart remained in front of the ocean, in my old San Juan.”