Filed under: A Memory
It wasn’t until I was half way through my 32nd year of life, that I realized I had finally become the person I’d always wanted. I had just finished putting my sons, Kale and Maxwell, to bed and I was double checking the locks before setting the alarm. As my husband walked out of the kitchen with a fresh bowl of popcorn for us to share while we watched our Tuesday night show he said, “Honey, I think I forgot to tell you this morning that I love you.” He jammed a handful of popcorn in his mouth and smiled as he crunched. I smiled back as I told him that I loved him too and, still crunching away, he leaned over and kissed me. Right then I had one of those moments. You know when you’re doing something and it just feels so right, like you always knew you were going to be there and then you got there and you just have this moment where you feel like everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be. That was one of those moments. I love those moments.
I love when she tells me little stories like that. It’s like a snippet of a diffent life than you imagine a person really leads.
Filed under: A Memory
I woke up to a kiss on the forehead. He does that when he doesn’t want to wake me. He doesn’t know that I’ve been awake since he hit snooze the first time. An hour later and he smells like soap and coffee. He whispers “love you” as he closes the door behind him. I grab my phone off the nightstand. I hear the text chime as he’s getting in the car. He already knows what it says. He smiles and saves it for later. It’s my turn. An hour later I smell of soap and coffee. As I open the door to my car. my phone chimes. I already know what it says. I save it for later.
Filed under: A Memory
He finally introduced himself as Tee Durden. What a name. I stuck my hand out thinking about how firm my grip should be, but when I looked up he was leaning in to kiss my cheek. Just one kiss on the right cheek, he bowed slightly as he said, “It is very nice to meet you, Kale.” He continued speaking to the man next to him about organic cotton farmers asI quietly bowed out of sight. Next time, Tee Durden, next time.
Filed under: A Memory
…the rooms have a hint of asbestos and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde.
Flashback to two months ago:
Laying on the side of the road, their appendages were bound together like roped calves. I thought they were dead until we got closer and I saw their chests rhythmically rising and falling. It pained me to see them piled on top of each other next to the road like that, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone else. A motor taxi pulled up next to us with six more in the back of his cart. The driver got out and tossed them on the pile. They screamed, mostly from fright, but I’m guessing being tossed 3 feet didn’t feel too pleasant either. The kids screamed the loudest and tried to stand up and run away, but the older ones just laid there like it was an everyday occurrence. The kids screaming made me well-up, but I fought the urge to cry because no one else seemed to be affected. How could they treat them like that?
We continued down the highway, picking-up and dropping-off passengers every 1/4 km or so. 30 minutes into the drive we picked up a man with a hogtied kid. I wondered where the kid would ride, there was no room for him in the bus. Without skipping a beat the cobrador(Sorry, I don’t know what cobrador is in English. Neyshmi?) tosses the kid on top of the bus and off we drive. I could no longer fight back the tears. The kid was on the roof of the bus screaming like no one I’ve ever heard before. Talk about animal cruelty, PETA would have a field day. Now when I’m served cabrito (goat), I politely push it aside and ask for the chicken instead. I just hope I don’t see the way chickens are transported any time soon.
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Now thinking back to that day, I wonder if I wasn’t just being insensitive to the fact that Peruvians are not taught to treat animals with the same love and respect like people from the USA. Not to mention that I’ve never seen goats transported in the US. I wonder if they’re treated the same way.
Filed under: A Memory
For You
You are the friend that I thank God for every time I see you. And when I tell you what I have to, it will change what we were. But I can’t stand festered by the pain that I might feel Your friendship alone, is more than enough for me. And I pray I haven’t let you down, that’s what I can’t stand to see. I can’t hide what is fake behind the depths of what is real I want you to know that I’d do anything for you that I could. Cause this song is for you, to show you what you mean to me. You can ask me for anything and you know that I would. You are the angel I thought was just a dream
Your smile assures me that this will turn out alright. But it’s your vibe to me that makes me cry at night. And I’ll go chasing for your heart that I can’t curve I hope you see the chess game that is implied within my heard. And that it’s your move, will you ever start? I don’t even want to date; I just want the chance to know you I want you to know that I’d do anything for you that I could. Cause this song is for you, to show you what you mean to me. You can ask me for anything you know that I would. You are the angel I thought was just a dream There’s not enough time to tell you all I want to, so I just want ya to feel my hand that tried to reach you.
I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you want from me. Knowing that I long to be a vision that you want to see. Your face will always give me a reason to start believing I can lie with you not ever talking to me because of this. But I can’t live with not taking the risk. I will forever try to be your friend I want you to know that I’d do anything for you that I could. Cause this song is for you, to show you what you mean to me. You can ask me for anything and you know that I could. You are the angel I thought was just a dream. Thank you God.
Filed under: A Memory
…had I known how to save a life…
She stares down at me with an unsure look on her face. One eyebrow lifted, I don’t even know if she’s conscious of the fact that she lifts it every-time she moves her head. I can’t remember any other expression on her face, just that one.
Physically she’s right in front of me, but I can’t feel her presence. I know she’s not really there. I don’t know why I hold on to her so hard. I just can’t seem to let her go. She was the only one ever there for me and I feel like when she was dying I wasn’t there for her. She waited for me. She waited so long. And when I finally came back to her, she let go almost immediately. I know she held on because she wanted to say goodbye, and she let go because another called for her companionship.
My head is starting to hurt from holding back. You know when you have to cry and you clench your teeth and make your eyes really wide to keep the tears back. That happens when I miss her and when I rummage through the box that smells of her.
I don’t think anyone really understands why I hold on to her memory so hard. They don’t really understand who she was to me. They don’t understand that sometimes she was the only one who would love me. For that, I am forever in debt to her. Even now that she’s gone she’s still here for me. Sometimes at night instead of sharing my feelings with God, I share them with her and I know that she’s sitting somewhere just listening.
When I die, I want to be cremated and mixed with her ashes, then spread across the world. So that no matter where I am a piece of her will always be with me and vice versa.