Yes. He was an old painter. How old? No one knew for sure. They regarded him as an elder in his community. One that was respected and loved. His right eye had gone to sleep years ago, closed shut and unwilling to help the elder with any of his paintings. But that didn't bother him much. He adjusted quickly in making sure he didn't knock into a wall or hit someone with his right shoulder. In his late age, he was hyper paranoid and noticed himself looking more right than left. Looking for what? No one knew for sure. His paintings seemed to have more detail on the left side of the canvass but the right compensated with rich color and large brush strokes.
He was quiet. He didn't talk much, laugh much or love much. "Life's too short for that sort of nonsense", a favorite line of his. However, his paintings told a different story. There was a woman. There always is. She was his muse, and in every one of his paintings. Even ones of nature. You could find her sitting in a green pasture with cows and a barn and a pink sunset. She would be as tiny as an ant in the far upper left corner of the canvass; sitting under a full green tree with her straw hat. She had to be included in every painting, because, well--- he loved her.
His hand would shake. Sporadically. Without warning. It would just shake, as if it was a tremor. It didn't bother him, only a mild annoyance and a reminder that he was indeed old. Unfortunately, on this day, he was just finishing Irene's straw hat. "She has to be perfect or this painting----this painting will be incomplete." He spoke with sheer determination, but the suffering was quite apparent. The shaking continued into the night. Why? No one knew for sure. He was reluctant in going to sleep knowing his painting was absent of her straw hat. But he did.
That night his left eye closed shut and did not wake. I imagine he went to find her sitting in green pasture. With her straw hat.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Book - draft - Part 1
And then they all rejoiced in unison, singing their sweet praises, creating a soft hum that filled my lungs, my heart and my soul with the realization that it was going to be okay, that everything was going to be just fine. The blinding white silk that lay against the angels sculpted bodies made me feel warm and unconsciously sleepy. I knew then that I must be dreaming. There was nothing okay about chemotherapy. My journey with this disease would last long past this books birth and my eventual re-birth. I knew I would never find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and despite my tears for knowing I would never indulge in this occasion I wept tears of joy too. I was alive. Thank God I was alive.
How it started. I clearly remember his face. The first boy I had a major crush on. He had warm brown eyes, eye lashes that collided with one another that created a thick blanket, and, well, crooked teeth. But the last part didn’t bother me. He introduced me to a foreign world, one I had never even touched let alone held. I never had a boy interested in me, more importantly I had never had feelings for somebody that I could not understand, tame or appreciate. Looking back it only lasted as long as a minute does when washing your mouth out with Listerine; most likely the longest minute you have ever been apart of, but in retrospect it was only a minute. Well, this “minute” was the beginning of the rest of my life.
He was poised and never dramatic. His voice was matter of fact as well as his body language, this much I remember from our first conversation. That and one of the many side effects he talked about. “Taking the high levels of prednisone and chemotherapy you are at higher risk of becoming sterile, unable to have children of your own.” Nothing is processed mentally, physically or emotionally in your first hour of darkness. My shock was quickly interrupted by a Superman strength that would take over for years to come.
He broke up with me. Yes, and it was quite dramatic. It was made official on the night of my 19th birthday, drink in hand and a slammed door in my face. “You know everyone thinks you’re Nuts.” Looking back bursts of laughter come from my belly, a deep true laugh, but at the time his impression of me, his attitude towards me, his actions against me, were devastating, truly heartbreaking. The months to follow were grueling. A cloud of depression loomed over my head, and any time I shrank away from the pain and the devastation, I was clearly reminded of my reality; F’s in every single class, 16 pounds lighter, old friend’s long gone and new friends puzzled by my drastic turn towards the “dark side.”
I remember being six years old waiting for my mother to stop bargaining with the cashier on the price of okra’s. Vista was one of my favorite grocery stores but only because it was right next to an ice cream shop and of course I got to see Christina. Looking back I don’t believe I knew her name. It was a made up name that I assigned to her. She had long blonde hair that was a bit static, beautiful baby blue eyes and the hottest pink fake nails this side of the Mississippi. I loved her. I did not know her but I loved her dearly.
How it started. I clearly remember his face. The first boy I had a major crush on. He had warm brown eyes, eye lashes that collided with one another that created a thick blanket, and, well, crooked teeth. But the last part didn’t bother me. He introduced me to a foreign world, one I had never even touched let alone held. I never had a boy interested in me, more importantly I had never had feelings for somebody that I could not understand, tame or appreciate. Looking back it only lasted as long as a minute does when washing your mouth out with Listerine; most likely the longest minute you have ever been apart of, but in retrospect it was only a minute. Well, this “minute” was the beginning of the rest of my life.
He was poised and never dramatic. His voice was matter of fact as well as his body language, this much I remember from our first conversation. That and one of the many side effects he talked about. “Taking the high levels of prednisone and chemotherapy you are at higher risk of becoming sterile, unable to have children of your own.” Nothing is processed mentally, physically or emotionally in your first hour of darkness. My shock was quickly interrupted by a Superman strength that would take over for years to come.
He broke up with me. Yes, and it was quite dramatic. It was made official on the night of my 19th birthday, drink in hand and a slammed door in my face. “You know everyone thinks you’re Nuts.” Looking back bursts of laughter come from my belly, a deep true laugh, but at the time his impression of me, his attitude towards me, his actions against me, were devastating, truly heartbreaking. The months to follow were grueling. A cloud of depression loomed over my head, and any time I shrank away from the pain and the devastation, I was clearly reminded of my reality; F’s in every single class, 16 pounds lighter, old friend’s long gone and new friends puzzled by my drastic turn towards the “dark side.”
I remember being six years old waiting for my mother to stop bargaining with the cashier on the price of okra’s. Vista was one of my favorite grocery stores but only because it was right next to an ice cream shop and of course I got to see Christina. Looking back I don’t believe I knew her name. It was a made up name that I assigned to her. She had long blonde hair that was a bit static, beautiful baby blue eyes and the hottest pink fake nails this side of the Mississippi. I loved her. I did not know her but I loved her dearly.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Journey of Alaskan Salmon
And like the fish swimming upstream, beating itself fiercely against the the rocky path, against the current, bleeding on its way to its destination... you too will venture on your own journey, fighting against the path of great resistance. The path you chose. But you must always remember that the best journey's are the ones that bring you home.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Dedicated to Eva
Four little girls in summer dresses, with blue satin sashes, carrying pocket umbrellas in case of a drizzle. But it is a warm sunny day on the promenade and there is nothing to fear in the weather, only the stain of the sun against their porcelain skin. They journey together, skipping awkwardly, but quickly towards a shallow creek. Bursts of giggles are absorbed into the aged tree trunks surrounding their “secret hiding place.” This shallow creek has been a part of many secrets told, some in whispers, and others by just a look from one shy girl to another. Regardless, this place was special. And as they aged, becoming the best of friends, they never forgot the days spent by the creek. But as more time passed life got in the way, and some moved to other countries, others found new secret spots, and those left never recovered. Not until the death of one of their own would bring everyone back. Back to the beginning.
(Our secret spot was the apartment swimming pool in L.A. Little did I know that would be the last time I saw you. After watching I Love Lucy with a bowl of rice pudding, you complained of being tired and went home to sleep. You died in your bed on a hot summer July day. Your parents still said hello to me every morning but the bags under their eyes grew bigger and bigger. I know you are among angels. I love you).
(Our secret spot was the apartment swimming pool in L.A. Little did I know that would be the last time I saw you. After watching I Love Lucy with a bowl of rice pudding, you complained of being tired and went home to sleep. You died in your bed on a hot summer July day. Your parents still said hello to me every morning but the bags under their eyes grew bigger and bigger. I know you are among angels. I love you).
Friday, August 27, 2010
A lie.
It was a decision I will never regret.
It was not a choice I was allowed to make.
His actions sabotaged any choice I initially had.
But it was a decision that changed the course of my life.
I am still living in this change and have not yet recognized the gift that I have given to myself. However, each day, each challenge, each breath taken on my own, without my partner, has been that much harder and in return that much sweeter. I am slowly falling into a rhythm that is my own. But even I cannot blind myself to the hatred that pours out of me. I realize that there are certain things that happen to us along the way that cannot be healed with sweet words or a simple gesture, but I still long for a quick fix. I think we all do. Pain is hard to endure and no one should suffer more than is needed. Although we may think that we are done morning the loss of a chapter in our lives, we may not be. And that is why the pain still remains. It is how you turn the pain into energy that will help close doors and open hearts. You must use that energy, filling yourself to the utmost core with whatever emotion or thought that engulfs you at the time. You must never forget your past, continually live in the present and for god’s sake don’t ever refuse to live for your future. You will always be somebody’s child, somebody’s very best friend, and if you are lucky somebody’s mother, somebody’s wife. You will always have a purpose in this world, just remember to live it.
It was not a choice I was allowed to make.
His actions sabotaged any choice I initially had.
But it was a decision that changed the course of my life.
I am still living in this change and have not yet recognized the gift that I have given to myself. However, each day, each challenge, each breath taken on my own, without my partner, has been that much harder and in return that much sweeter. I am slowly falling into a rhythm that is my own. But even I cannot blind myself to the hatred that pours out of me. I realize that there are certain things that happen to us along the way that cannot be healed with sweet words or a simple gesture, but I still long for a quick fix. I think we all do. Pain is hard to endure and no one should suffer more than is needed. Although we may think that we are done morning the loss of a chapter in our lives, we may not be. And that is why the pain still remains. It is how you turn the pain into energy that will help close doors and open hearts. You must use that energy, filling yourself to the utmost core with whatever emotion or thought that engulfs you at the time. You must never forget your past, continually live in the present and for god’s sake don’t ever refuse to live for your future. You will always be somebody’s child, somebody’s very best friend, and if you are lucky somebody’s mother, somebody’s wife. You will always have a purpose in this world, just remember to live it.
Friday, August 20, 2010
The Language of a Haiku
Haiku is one of the most important forms of traditional Japanese poetry. Haiku is, today, a 17-syllable verse form consisting of three metrical units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables. Haiku is the smallest literary form with the most rules. Here are a few of my own.
When we were once young
Our naive world ran free.
And now life burns truth.
Gentle fingertips
Caress the small of my back.
A cherished effort.
My decaying mind
Burned by florescent work lights
Trapped in a gray box.
The old dog sleeps sound,
Leg twitching, chasing rabbit.
The wood floor echoes snores.
Spanish lullabies.
She closes heavy eye lids.
Baby breath, heaven.
Your face sketched in time
Slowly ages, grows weary
Of death approaching.
Things I wished had been.
Dreams turned real for a short while
Collapse under me.
The winter hungers
For drops of sun bending down
Igniting a change.
Your smell is still strong.
Your voice fades into the night.
The blackness chokes me.
When we were once young
Our naive world ran free.
And now life burns truth.
Gentle fingertips
Caress the small of my back.
A cherished effort.
My decaying mind
Burned by florescent work lights
Trapped in a gray box.
The old dog sleeps sound,
Leg twitching, chasing rabbit.
The wood floor echoes snores.
Spanish lullabies.
She closes heavy eye lids.
Baby breath, heaven.
Your face sketched in time
Slowly ages, grows weary
Of death approaching.
Things I wished had been.
Dreams turned real for a short while
Collapse under me.
The winter hungers
For drops of sun bending down
Igniting a change.
Your smell is still strong.
Your voice fades into the night.
The blackness chokes me.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
A Normal Person with a Boring Job
You are better than any lie you have ever told.
You are smarter than any book you have ever read.
You are braver than any superhero you cherished as a child.
You are in one word a WOMAN. And you are here to change the world.
Be what you are too afraid to talk about.
Accomplish what you are too timid to admit.
Do not shrink back behind the shadow of your male counterpart.
Do not allow yourself to be expendable, but rather show everyone the true potential of a woman who’s armed with confidence.
GO. Paint the canvass of this world with all your brilliance.
Live each day as if it was on purpose.
And if you were once that little girl, whose mommy never said, “baby when you grow up you can do anything.” I’m here to tell you ... You can and you will!
Go child. Go see the world. You will never regret it.
You are smarter than any book you have ever read.
You are braver than any superhero you cherished as a child.
You are in one word a WOMAN. And you are here to change the world.
Be what you are too afraid to talk about.
Accomplish what you are too timid to admit.
Do not shrink back behind the shadow of your male counterpart.
Do not allow yourself to be expendable, but rather show everyone the true potential of a woman who’s armed with confidence.
GO. Paint the canvass of this world with all your brilliance.
Live each day as if it was on purpose.
And if you were once that little girl, whose mommy never said, “baby when you grow up you can do anything.” I’m here to tell you ... You can and you will!
Go child. Go see the world. You will never regret it.
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