The day has come.
My man returns.
Like a marathoner, I have ripped through the silk ribbon finale.
Ok, now give me my medallion.
The fear of going at this kid alone.
The fear of having to entertain, maintain, and remain a diligent parent –
The fear of him take, take, taking from me –
It lives larger in my head.
When are you gonna realize, he’s a good boy.
A kind, generous, loving, boy.
No high maintenance here.
And yet, I keep thinking he’ll take, take, take from me.
Continue reading “take take take”
FADE IN: girl on the phone, fidgeting with her hair.
Everyone is outta whack right now.
Like, weird phone calls coming in, wrong emails going out. It’s a THANG. You heard about the eclipsed full moon chaos, yeah?
It’s just chaos right now – kids acting outta whack, drama all up and down, mind racing – it’s very eclipsy. You know?
Continue reading “beep bop boop”
Feel from the inside, she tells me.
It may mean breathing differently.
Close the door from the world and give it a few seconds longer to “log in”.
Stop from feeling through the mind, that doesn’t work.
Feel from the inside.
The guts, your innards.
She’s leaving me.
I definitely feel that.
The heart aches, the mind ever-so proud, the revenge pulsates.
But what for? And who cares?
Nothing changes what’s to come, she’s leaving me.
Stop being so dramatic.
Continue reading “a solid goodbye”
I can hear my heart beating.
I can hear myself laughing at his jokes.
I can smell the curly fries from Jack in the Box as we walk to my house
I can feel our hands shaking, as if we were very nervous.
Oh, wait… we are.
It’s the first time he’s coming over for dinner with my family.
I open the gate to my house, slowly and lead him in.
As I slam the gate, leaves fall down from the tree as if like snow; but sadly, it doesn’t snow in LA.
We stop and turn to each other when we arrive at the door.
I can hear my breathing.
I can feel him shaking.
I look into his eyes and say to him, “Ready?”
From where we’re standing I can hear them laughing from the other side of the door.
I squeeze his hand and he squeezes mine.
I pen the door, as I walk in first.
I smell the sweet apples that are in the basket beside the entrance.
And it started with a “hello.”
First Meet by Angela Hernandez from Before There Were Bars, POPS The Club
FADE IN: a car, 2 friends peeling mandarins:
“I mean, now what? We just go back to farts and Trader Joes?”
She looks at me expecting an answer.
Farts and Trader Joes…yeah, that seems about right. You spend enough time with someone, sure, that’s what happens. I don’t say that, instead I nod.
She scoffs and looks away.
“It’s not fair,” she says quietly.
She’s so pretty when she’s mad/frustrated/sad/resentful/vulnerable.
When she’s human.
Continue reading “farts + trader joes”
My set of keys:
At the center, is a single miniature shoe from Peru with traditional Peruvian colors. I had been trying to find a keychain for the longest time. I went to so many thrift stores sifting to find the perfect one. My partner said to wait, let the right one come to you. Ah, the story of my life. Well, when I least expected it, it arrived. My friend Lauren gave it to me when she visited Peru last year. Or was it the year before? It’s cute, it’s simple, it brings a smile to my face.
My friendship with Lauren is pretty unexpected too. We were workmates and had to handle a challenging project that required lots of time together. I believe if I can like you through the stressful times, I’ll like you forever. And that’s what happened. She’s a giver and every time she visits anywhere, she returns with symbolic gifts for her workmates. I mean, workmates? Who does that? She teaches me generosity and to slow down, to not eat so fast.
Continue reading “peru shoe”
This go around,
We were two ships passing.
Trying so hard to meet at the corner of familiarity, tradition, “then”.
I love her.
Family that was #1 and now is, well, tertiary.
Life has changed.
Time has contracted, in and out, without our even knowing it.
Before our eyes.
While we were distracted.
The natural order of things…
Continue reading “the natural order”