A Better Side Of You To Admire

There's a couple walking by the river. Arms linked. They're young...maybe mid to late 20's. He tucks her hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead. She simply nudges his nose with hers. They keep walking, stopping every few steps to look at the water or remind each other they're together, with a soft gesture. Pretty soon, darkness engulfs them in the distance...and they blend into the reflections and shadows at the end of the walkaway.

I stare at my half full...half empty...half a glass of some blue martini. It doesn't even taste right anymore. I push the full cup of soup away from me and look back out towards the river flowing quietly, carrying it with it troubling secrets under it's surface...downstream...away from here. The ferry floats by like an illuminated ghost. Red bulbs. White bulbs. Sloshing away. Saturday night. Somewhere to go. The napkin falls off my lap onto the floor. I leave it there.

I pay my tab...for half a martini and three spoonfuls of soup. Yet, it feels like I paid with my entire soul. I look at the river again, it looks darker and I catch my reflection on the glass windows. It's almost comical. I take a picture, and instagram it. Because I feel the need to capture the loneliness I'm exuding, staring back at me. Or maybe to remind myself of what I've always thought as a child: No one should have dinner alone. I grab my wallet and slide out of the booth, hands already tucked in my hoodie and looking at the floor as I quickly make my way out of the restaurant. The young host said goodnight as I passed him, and I barely registered it...simply nodding at him in a rush towards my room.

The elevator doors opened, releasing me into the confines of a narrow hallway...

I walked into my room and my curtains were drawn, revealing the view out at the river...the old bridge crossing it. The couple was making their way back from their walk, this time their arms around each other...sort of playing with each other's feet and laughing.

Closing the curtains, I turned and faced the empty hotel room. And that's where I found myself. Not by the river. Not at home. Not with anyone. A large, two bed hotel room...full of darkness and cold. For one person.

I miss you.

Dear Erin:

It's been two years since I last saw you...going on 3.

There have been highs and lows for both of us. Moments of intense joy and open communication...and long periods of silence...where we miss each other, yet, we know we're both okay.

I was talking about you the other day...about a particular memory I have of you.

My dear, you were always so sure things would end up okay in the matters of your heart. I had never encountered anyone so sure, serene, strong, certain that who she loved was who she was meant to love.

The world around you was stacking the odds against you. Doors were closing left and right. Lights were shutting off. Watching you love so intensely without knowing really where it was headed was scary, inspiring...but scary. You put yourself out there...because you felt it inside. You felt something inside you that no one else could feel. Something bigger, solid, strong...I couldn't see it...but it was as clear as daylight for you.

I look at it now...and I am in awe of you, my dear twin. In completely awe of all you've been through and continue to go through at times...but how it all just unfolded exactly as you were sure it was meant to unfold. I can almost see your wide smile and your eyes peering into mine, whispering "I told you so..." into my head.

I understand now...everything. That undying fire you felt...that feeling that no matter what you have to fight through, all will work out in the end...because the universe wants it to be. That feeling that this is what it's supposed to feel like, that this is worth fighting for because it is unlike anything ever felt. Peaceful. Calm. Even when the storm is headed towards you...staring you down..you know that through the pain...you'll emerge victorious at the end. It was worth it.

Today is your birthday, Daisy Jay. Erin. Twin. Plookie. Every possible name we ever had for each other. Today is the third year I've been a part of your life and you've been a rock in mine. I love you and those gifts you brought to the world, Cora and Emma. You're family. My family. I can only hope I can see you soon. I miss your eyes. Your strength. Your laughter. Your light.

Thank you for teaching me lessons. For preparing me. For being my heart.

Have a happy, peaceful birthday. You were right. You were always right. And it's beautiful.

Here's to you, me and Chief Brody...yumyumyumyum

Oh, Brother...

"Mom?", I whispered carefully, trying to not disturb the stillness of the night around us. The sun had set long ago and my mother had decided to curl up in bed with me to have a long poetry reading session.

"Hmmm?", she grunted back...slightly jumping at my question, as if my voice had ripped her out of the dream state she was falling into.

"Why don't I have a brother? Or a sister?"

A long pause lingered in the air before I heard her throat clearing and the familiar clicking of her tongue against her palate. This small gesture usually meant she actually had given the answer some thought before wording it in a way I would understand. As well as a 6 year old could understand the deeper topics in life, anyway.

"Well...", she began, "...I guess we're happy with just having you, Yari." She turned her face towards me and found a small, shiny pair of eyes staring directly at her...expectantly. She sighed and continued, looking at me..."Why do you ask?"

"All my friends have brothers and sisters. My cousins have brothers and sisters. Why not me?", I remember asking a bit more forceful.

"Because, Charola, it just hasn't happened. Besides, aren't you happy being the center of our attention? Being the only girl and the baby of the family? What if you had a little sister and no one payed attention to you anymore?", she reasoned.

I mulled over this question. I was the only child, which had it's perks. I was the youngest grandchild and the only female in a long parade of boys. The princess, so to speak. That, too, was good to have. I had my own room and I didn't have to share my toys. Comfortable living situation, indeed. But...

"What do you mean it hasn't happened? Have you guys even tried?", ever the clever child.

Mom shifted next to me a little uncomfortable and cleared her throat again. "Yes. But I can't have any more babies, Yari. Ok? The doctor says I can't."

Sadness and hopelessness crept on me like a suffocating blanket, but I would not cry. I swallowed and my throat seemed tight. Dry.

"What about adopting, Ma?"

She looked away from me and at the ceiling for a long time. Her lips parted slightly and she mumbled, "Dad doesn't want to."

"Why?"

"Because he says there's no way of knowing if that child has genes from their parents that would make them prone to being violent, alcoholics, hard to handle or sick...", she finished, quietly.

"What??!! Genes don't make people be violent. It's how their mom and dad raise them to be! What if their sick? We'll take care of them. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of not having someone to play with. I want a big brother to stop the other kids from picking on me at school, Mom! I want a sister to braid my hair or a little brother to teach how to play basketball! You guys shouldn't have had me so I could be a lonely kid!", I all but sobbed out.

Her hand quickly found my bangs and her fingers quickly went to work running through my hair, pushing it away from my face.

"Charo, you're not alone. You have lots of cousins and friends. Not just at school but here in the neighborhood. More importantly, your family can also be your friends. Your uncles and aunts, c'mon Yari, you always treat them like your buddies and they treat you the same. Your dad...me...we love being your friends. You're funny, fun, smart, sneaky and loving. So kind, Yari. You're like a little grown up...it's the weirdest thing.", she added, smiling.

"Besides, Yari, want to know what one of my favorite quotes says? Since we're being poetic and deep, little philosopher?"

I smiled in the darkness at the thought of me being a philosopher. I even pronounced the word slowly, half giggling..."fi...lo...so..fa"

"Yes, filosofita. The quotes says 'There exists companions disposed to break one another to pieces, but there exists a friend sticking closer than a brother.' Don't worry, Yari. You'll find friends that won't even make you miss not having siblings. Ok?", she smiled at me, slightly tickling my foot with hers.

I curled up laughing, and nodded into her chest...

And so it was. Through the years I've made friendships that I would not trade for a sibling. I've found people who I've developed such a connection with, bond, need for their affection and constant contact that it defies any logical explanation. Complete strangers that have no reason to have anything remotely in common with me...

When I have been in my darkest moments...there have been a handful of you to pull me out. You are my brothers and my sisters...or even better. Because you HAVE to love your family, no matter how they choose to treat you. I chose to love you and you guys chose to love me back, no strings attached, through it all.

For you, out there in the universe, thank you for adopting me. For the memories. I love you.

Oh, and Mom? I still would've liked someone to stop me from getting my ass beat daily in school. Hmph.

Onward

I took the long way home,

down the road lined with spirals of broken glass.

The light of the moon reflected off them

A myriad of flashes, mirroring my face.

In my back pocket, a few old coins -

the good luck coins blessed by an ancestor

using the name of an unreliable deity.

I would have no savior

no luck, except my own.

No future except the next 3 steps I took.

You took it all. Every last beat.

In the smoke of the incense,

I see your eye. Controlling. Watchful.

But I'm walking on home.

I have my place in the darkness.

Somewhere to live in the light.

Fight. For me. For you. Fight.

So I stand here, uncertainly sure.

Confusingly clear.

I ask of you...no. I simply ask

Are you sure?

Are you ready?

Are you in?

Dreams Are Made Winding...

Going along the lines of my last post...

This was my first rock concert...big name band, I mean...that I ever attended. System of a Down. New Jersey. I was 15.

I told my parents I was going with some friends to NJ to spend the night in Phillipsburg at another friends house. In actuality, I left right after school and drove to a motel near the venue (a hotel would not accept a minor without an adult/credit card). I paid for my room cash and took the bus to the venue. I was at the gates by 7. I stuck to a group of guys that were in their late 20's so no one would card me, because I'm a ninja like that.

I was scared out of my mind. I had never been in a concert for this type of music (tho I loved this band and knew every song by heart) nor had I been in a mosh pit with this kind of intense energy/anger. I had been in other mosh pits tho, so I figured I'd join this one. I was fearless. I was dumb.

It was during this song up that I posted the video to that I got my first rock concert injury. It was during one of the heavy, slow parts of this song that the mosh started moving angrily...we were all blinded. Suddenly I felt intense stinging, pain on my left hip...and warm water trickling down my thigh. I looked to my side and some dude was wearing very long spikes on his wrists and while swinging in the mosh, he had successfully lodged three of those spikes on my hip. I shoved him off me with all the anger I felt at that moment for his stupid move (you dont get in a mosh pit to hurt others, at least that's not how it's supposed to be...unspoken rule), and as the spikes slid out of me more blood kept coming out. I freaked out and he kept apologizing. I asked him for his shirt, which he gladly gave me, and I pressed it tight against my wounds as I poured water on it from a water bottle. Burn. Sting. Pain pain. I tucked the shirt as a gauze on my hip and my jeans kept it in place tightly. I limped away and missed the rest of the show. It was almost done anyways.

That night after I showered at the motel, I ran down the block to a 24 hour Walgreens and grabbed antibiotic ointment, gauzes and alcohol. I came back to the room and took care of things, then went to bed more worried about my parents finding out what had happened or where I was...instead of being concerned that the wound might get infected...

Alas, no one ever found out. As far as my parents know, I had a great sleep over in NJ, 45 minutes away and came home safe and sound the next morning by noon.

Shhh...keep my secret.

The Good[Cool] Kids Are Texting

I never once lied, as a child. Well. I take that back. I lied once.

There are things in life, which I cannot resist. Powdered sugar is one of them. So are donuts. When you combine the two, now you’ve created a super food which overpowers every thought in my head if placed within a 50 ft. radius of me. That being said, I was 5 years old and was coming out of my room and into the kitchen, to get ready and have my supper. The food still had a few more minutes to go before it was done, but my mom had placed two small powdered donuts on a Barbie plate, in the middle of our dining room table already. My eyes zoned in on them. A shark, eyeing its prey from underneath…preparing to launch a surprise attack on the unsuspecting. “Yari. Don’t eat the donuts. Those are for after you eat your dinner. Ok?”, said my mother in a soft, but serious tone. I pried my eyes from my delicious goal and reluctantly met my mother’s gaze. I nodded, indicating I understood the instructions. “I’m watching you. I’ll know if you touch them, so don’t lie to me. Do you understand?”, she re-iterated. I sighed, seemingly defeated and simply sat at my place on the table, head laying on my hands. My mother walked away to take a quick shower, and little Yari was left all alone in the kitchen…with two donuts a few inches away from her tiny, eager little hands.

My mother came down the hall, fixing her clothes, shaking her wet hair. I jumped out of my chair and went to grab water, pretending to be suddenly thirsty and taking down big gulps. I turn around to go sit back on my place, and my mother is staring at the empty Barbie plate. She looks at me, eyebrow raised.

“Yari. Did you eat the donuts?”

“No.”

“Yari. I know when you’re lying to me. I’m going to ask you again and tell me the truth. Did you eat the donuts?”

“No! Mom! I didn’t touch them!”

“Where did they go, then?”

“I don’t know! I was over there drinking water. You saw me.”

“Yari. Are you sure you didn’t eat the donuts? Are you lying?”

“No! I’m not lying! Look inside my mouth! *opens mouth, confident the water washed all residue away* See?”

“I see. But if you don’t know what happened to the donuts, and if you didn’t touch them or eat them…then what’s this?” *walking up to me, pointing at the powdered sugar residue all over the front of my shirt *

Needless to say, I never lied again. The look in my eyes, my body language…gave me away as soon as something was remotely off with me. Let’s not mention that they thoroughly explained why lying was wrong, and how it hurt others at some point…made them disappointed in me. Apparently those were enough reasons for me not to do it.

So time passed, and I was the good kid. Straight A’s with my homework done within an hour of being home from school (if I hadn’t already finished it at school already). Never talked back to my parents, accepted my discipline, helped around the house, respected everyone, didn’t sneak out or tried drugs. I was the daughter all my parents’ friends wanted to have. “That Yari, she never gives ya’ll any worries…”, they’d comment. My parents would simply smile and nod. I was rewarded with their trust, with privacy, with them letting me go out with my friends and come back whenever I deemed it was a responsible time to be home (I was always home by 11 p.m., even if they never asked me of it) and I was left to be judicious in my use of the internet when I was 14.

So. I was left alone. I was trusted that I wouldn’t lie about who I was talking to, what I was talking about and that I wasn’t lying about going to bed. I had earned that right to privacy. So, I started lying. About texting a friend, when I was really texting boys. About what I was doing with my free time. No, I wasn't on the phone with my friends or reading a book or just laying down in my room doing my own thing...I was exposing myself to people who were brought up different than I was. People that weren't innocent or naive or going through the same stages of insecurity that I was. No. They had malice and poor intentions. And I was prime territory to claim.

By the time they realized they should probably monitor what I was doing, it was a little too late. I had seen and done things no teenager had business even knowing about. I'm not saying I am ungrateful for the trust they had in me...and after all, it was I who violated their faith in me and my decision making...

I guess I wrote this out of concern for many of my friends who sometimes want to provide their kids with technological freedoms. I am not a parent, so I would not presume to think I could do better or that I have the right approach. Each person knows what works in their case. I simply want to warn of the danger of blurring that line between being a parent that kids can consider their friend...and being the parent that tries desperately to be cool, turning their face away when they should be monitoring closely.

The end. Heh.

More Nothingness

I find myself at a loss of words when it comes to this corner of my life. I wish I could say the lack of thoughts shared is due to nothing new happening in my life. No.

I started school last Monday. 9 years after graduating HS, I'm finally having my first day as a freshman in college. It was pretty much as terrifying as I thought it was going to be. I was lost. Out of place. Awkward. The chair-desks were too tiny for a fat girl. But I survived, and look forward to finishing the semester with a decent grade. Nothing fancy. Maybe make a friend. I'm too old for these expectations.

I'm drowning in a sea of emotions. Most of them good. The rest are bouts of stress, confusion, worry, panic...I feel like something has to give.

Maybe if I want something bad enough, the universe will conspire and make it happen. It already did once. I just need for it to continue where I want it to go. Before I kill myself overthinking, overworrying or simply being impatient.

Fresh Outta Nice

For about two months now, the "new guy" at work - whom which I have a love/hate relationship with - has been coming to me for advice on what to do with his recent love issues. Every time, I have told him to take it easy. He just got off a 15+ yr relationship, in which he only stayed out of duty and his 'honor'. He's struck up several romances at the same time...but not wanting to be in a serious one. I warned him one of them...if not all....would at some point demand more from him than he was ever intending to give.

This is today's convo. He picked the wrong day to come crying.

New Guy:

well kinda good. i have to talk to the austin about things...she's getting clingy.

Yari:

ok

New Guy:

she's probably not going to take things so well

and it kinda bothers me

i told you she was moving to pecos, right?

Yari:

I'm shocked that she wont take things well...really...this is my shocked face.

and yes you did.

New Guy:

well i've guarded myself from the beginning

and somehow it backfired

and she wants more than i offered to give her

and i won't ever move to pecos

and i don't want long distance even if it's 1hr away

and even though i'm sure they are wonderful children, i don't want to raise 4 kids

Yari:

yeah.

New Guy:

and she is a great person and we've had some wonderful experiences

and she understands me and gets me

and we can relate...but...see above

Me:

did you tell her that from the beginning. right off the bat?

New Guy:

well i kinda. first of all, she only talked about moving to pecos as a thought or a dream..then it was going to be next year, then it turns out she is moving tomorrow

so she knows i was out of the relationship and wasn't ready for anything

Yari:

doesnt matter...kinda doesn't cut it.

if it was a dream

or next year

New Guy:

she hasn't pressured me into anything and she tells me that...but then she turns around and does pressure me in a way.

Yari:

youre never moving to pecos...ever. She should know.

no, but she's sure as hell hoping you change your mind

New Guy:

sigh

Yari:

sometimes, i really wonder if im the only one that can see crap happening to people.

I mean, surely youre not that naive!

New Guy:

lol i'm not

but i have hopes

Yari:

hopes that you can have your cake and eat it too.

New Guy:

nooo

if i get serious with a certain someone...i really don't need anymore cake

and that's the honest truth

i really thought things were over and gone between me and the other girl... and i would just ride things out with this one..seeing each other every 3 or 4 weeks, ya know...?

so it would be ok

Yari:

no

you just wanted to stick your finger

in every cake

taste them all without having to pick which was your flavor right away

and not having to pay for any of them

New Guy:

what! i pay

in my own way

New Guy:

it was supposed to be me time i guess

Yari:

No, they pay

and it was supposed to be time for you, like I told you weeks ago

not to be looking to be tied up again

especially when your feelings are so conflicted

New Guy:

*silence*

Yari:

i wasnt trying to bust your balls before because i was trying to be a bitch

I was simply telling you how it was gonna go down

when you made certain choices and you led these chicks on

it doesnt take a scientist

just some common sense

we live in a world where people are lonely

people need love

are looking for company

for the 'right one'

its not a world where you can tell every girl pretty things

make her feel nice, better about herself, loved during sex

and expect her NOT to assume its a lot more serious than it really is

this isn't a trip to Sam's where you can sample crap

and not buy

these are people

people that sometimes have been through rough situations

broken hearts

so for you to come in with your romanticism, pretty words, making them feel good about themselves when no one else has done that for them in a long time

yeah...feelings happen.

New Guy:

then i'm better off just being a recluse and never show off my light

Yari:

no

show your light to whores

cuz theyre the only ones that wont get attached

and you can keep your freedom

New Guy:

i don't want hoes

ho's

Yari:

oh well.

New Guy:

lol

Yari:

that's what girls end up being

when they run into you

they give you deep stuff back

only to be kicked to the curb and made think it was never serious

just a good time

New Guy:

wow

tell me how you really feel...damn

but that's not the truth

even if you feel that way

Yari:

sure. whatever helps you sleep at night

youre all about being blunt and honest

because that's what friends do

i dont like half the crap you tell me

but I take it

because youre outside my box

and you see things I don't

about myself

about my actions

But your arrogance and inability to learn to love yourself...your reluctance be by yourself... all these will be your own downfall

and this time you wont be able to blame it on doing the right thing

on being the man you thought you should be

because now you have choices

you have freedom

to NOT repeat history

many don't get that chance

you have it

New Guy has logged off.

And then, it rained...

Yes, yesterday,

I woke up old.

My face was long

The feet were cold.

I wore sandals

Instead of Chucks

Tried to call in

But I ran outta luck.

Work killed

Meetings blew

Wasted the day

Feeling blue.

At 5 o’clock

I made it home

For a second

Lighting shone.

And then it rained…

It rained, poured,

I splashed my feet

A kid again,

The water sweet.

My father sung

My mother danced

My toes in mud

Three dorks, enhanced.

The dogs hid

The neighbors thought

“What weird people-

Playing in that lot”.

I went inside

Dried my face

Feeling happy,

Back in place.

I woke yesterday,

Feeling very 27.

Then it rained,

And I was once again, 7.

~Yari

How, When, Where

When I was 12, I discovered Neruda’s “Sonnet XVII” in the dark, cool corner of the public library in my small hometown. I was sitting across from my mom, as she took down notes from some old novel she used to like as a teenager, and I remember reaching over and tapping her hand with my fingertips. She looked up and shushed me, even before I had opened my mouth to say a word. I nodded as if to tell her I remembered, yes, we were in a library and I had to whisper.

“Can you give me a page from your notebook? I want to write this one down and take it home”, I whispered.

“Which one? Are you sure you really want that one? You can only do 4 every time we come, otherwise you’ll end up copying the whole library and taking it home with you. Let me see…”, she whispered back, grabbing my book and reading the small sonnet I was pointing to.

She read slowly, with a soft sigh towards the end and gave me the book back. She quietly and methodically tore a page from her notebook and handed it to me.

“I always liked Neruda, too. That one is beautiful. Good choice.”

“Yes, I love the part where it says ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where’. It seems silly, right Mom? You love from the heart. And you love because you want to…”, I giggled back with a certainty that she felt the same way, surely.

She gave me a strange look and said, “It means something else too, sometimes. But you’ll understand when you’re older. And no, I’m not explaining it now. You wouldn’t get it.”

I made a face, knowing she had anticipated my request for an explanation and went on to write down the poem down in my best penmanship. Something about poetry demands to be written exceeding your best efforts. Not sloppy. Rounded letters…no smudges. It’s art in words. It’s a story. It’s love. It’s pain. It’s history.

I took the page home, and folded it just once…neatly tucking it in a tin can where I had all my other poetry. It’s still there, 14 years later. Fourteen years changes a lot of things in a child’s mind. Time always gives experience. You’re no longer a novice, naïve when it comes to a skill, a pattern…life.

Those words mean a whole different world to me, now. The entire poem takes a new meaning.

The how: There is such thing as a love so powerful it cannot be contained in the confines of a simple heart. It would be like trying to hide the sun in a coin purse. It would burst at the seams, flooding the universe with its light. How does one explain that love to someone that’s never felt it? To people that have their own ideas of what love should and shouldn’t be. Textbook love. Predictable love. Rehearsed love. Pretend love. How can you love someone with such passion, blinded adoration and that life force feeling that runs from the tip of your toes up to the hairs on your head?

The when: Every nanosecond of the day. And then the days blur together and you lose count of how long you’ve loved this person. Because, now, all you know is that you go to sleep feeling loved and loving. If you dream, even if they’re bad, you don’t wake up feeling desolate and alone in the world. Someone makes it right by just listening to you and reassuring you that while the dream world may have fallen apart, the real world…which now feels like a perpetual fantasy…is very real. When? When you close your eyes while soaking up the sun and all you see is love. When you do day to day things, and now they seem to have a purpose. A reason. You’re no longer just existing…you matter. You belong. You are loved. You love. Always. Not a moment where that disappears. Even when it seems to be at its worst, that when it never fails, never waivers. The ‘when’ may be warped slightly…but there it is. Faithful. Strong. Always.

From where: A love you never knew existed, so it absolutely catches you unaware and leaves you wondering where it’s coming from? Where had it been hiding? Has it always been there? Waiting to be uncovered? How did you never notice it before? How can you even begin to understand where this love originates? Was it the first time you heard love say your name? The way it still stops your thoughts…stops you on your tracks to hear your name, so commonly used before, fall of love’s lips like the song of angels. Was it something bigger in which love pulled through for you? The way love looks at you…Oh the way you’re looked at. Where does is that look of unadulterated adoration birthed? Simply looking into their eyes and feeling like a blind man seeing for the first time. Loving from the darkest corners of your mind and body, unlike you’ve ever loved before. Where, indeed.

So yes, now it makes sense to love things in secret…since I know what he meant when he said “between the shadow and the soul”. A part of you that no one can touch. No one can take. Safe from the world and life and the passing of time. My treasure. My smile. Mine.

Sonnet XVII

~ Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

In secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

But carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

Thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

Risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

So I love you because I know no other way

Than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.