I have been sick for three days now and today I finally decided to make a doctor appointment for tomorrow. I hate going to the doctor even though I feel like I have a visit 3-5 times a year for some other issues. I like to think the way my abuela use to think and the way my dad thinks “It’s all in your head.” Even though I am 3rd generation Mexican-American I am still being told how “Mexican” I am and I take pride in that. I am still stubborn as can be when it comes to admitting weaknesses. I hate all of those new “tools” for cooking – if abuela didn’t need it I surely don’t need it either. I love my watermelon with chile and need salsita for even American food. And, I come out with some of the most random dichos that leave friends looking at me like I’m insane.
Although my Spanish falters some days and I catch myself caught up in American pop music, I like to think that I have held on to my Mexican roots and always will…hasta la madre!
And, another thing…What is it about the site of VapoRub on my bedside table that makes me feel like I will wake up in the morning free of aches and coughs?
So this is how it ends
This is where it all goes down
This is what “I don’t love you” feels like
It ain’t the middle of the night
And it ain’t even raining outside
It ain’t exactly what I had in mind
At a red light in the sunshine
On a Sunday
Nothin’ to say
Don’t even try
It’s been exactly – yes, even down to the minute – five days since everything happened. I haven’t had much time to just sit down and think about what’s happened. Well, I have thought about it, but not on my own. I have been reminded about our relationship at red lights, while getting into my car, while watching a YouTube video about a father-daughter duo, and even at what was once my haven – the baseball stadium.
But want to know the worst part?
Feelings change. Memories don’t.
June 2010 – I open the door and she turns from her brother to look at me. At first her eyes are wide because who would enter her home without even knocking? Not even my Bella (mom) would do that. Then her eyes softened. . .even smiled. . .when she saw me. I only stopped by to make sure she knew which medicine she was suppose to take since my Tia had left the day before. I check the bottle in her hand and tell her I’ll get going. . .then she opens her arms for the first time without me initiating it. . .and hugs me.
January 2006 – I’m sitting on the ground next to the lockers looking out at the courtyard as rain pours before a doubleheader varsity soccer game at my high school. Everyone always goes to buy food from good ol’ McDonald’s or BK before games. The girls are on the other side of the courtyard and I just don’t feel like taking the long walk to the other side. He comes walking up and stoops down to my level. We talk about the rain. We talk about how I’m quiet. We talk about who is better at soccer. He gets up to leave so that he can go grab food before the game. I watch him walk away with that light as air pace.
Read the rest of this entry »
Lonely. I’ve come to pay a visit to you, Ash. Well, since the soldier and you broke up.
What do I bring?
An empty side of the bed.
No “Good morning, nina” texts.
No one to share that good news with anymore.
A vase of dying Gerber Daisies that you want to ignore.
Tears that will fall in the middle of your day regardless of who’s around.
Oh, I’m here to stay for awhile, too.
As soon as the soldier walked out my door this afternoon, loneliness tapped at my bedroom window and here it is. I’m not going to give every detail of what happened between the solder and I, but just know that when people are in love. . .people shouldn’t treat one another the way we did. We did have some moments when we could see the end. . .that happily ever after kind of end. . .but, we just couldn’t do it.
Imagine a small tree that has survived a hurricane, but in the process of trying to hold stead to the roots it is loosing branches. . .leaves. . .colors. . .I am that little tree struggling to hold on as the eye of the storm passes right now.
Tick. . .tock. . .tick. . .tock.
Oh, clock slow down so I can catch my breath.
“Zzzzz. . .zzzzz. . .zzzzz”
Oh, phone stop reminding me I have text messages waiting.
Beautiful Detroit Tiger blue jacket, jump off that chair and hide yourself in my laundry. . .I don’t want to be reminded that this internship is stealing me away from a spring break with my closest friends.
USF deadline e-mail, please hide in my spam folder until I’m ready to finish sending in my packet. . .oh, and packet, hop into my backpack until I’m ready to go straighten you up.
Oh, cloud of ecstasy (also known as Bed), don’t tempt me to go to bed before 9:30 p.m. I always give in when you whisper my name after a long first half of the week. Oh, there you go looking so charming.
Tonight I am anti-social and exhausted. I have deactivated my Facebook. I have now just silenced my phone. I am taking a “Just for me” night. I have had a terrible week, but let’s be real, you don’t want to hear about my problems. You have your own. We all do. I won’t burden anyone but my God with my worries, because let’s face it my problems may be minuscule compared to yours. And, like Bella says, “This is just a moment in time.”
It is 4 am on Valentine’s Day and I am faced with the ending credits of “P.S. I Love You” and a silver bowl smeared with chocolate with a few kernels of popcorn at the bottom. The Starbucks Mocha Frappuccino carton is empty and sitting in my sink. I am depressed about Valentine’s Day. I never thought it was going to happen. Right after Christmas my favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day. I am addicted to the insane amount of red and pink at every store I walk into. . .even the gas station with its little display of an 8-count box in the shape of heart with chocolate. I love the absolutely ridiculous balloons with frogs declaring their love in big, bright letters. I enjoy the romantic movie marathons on every channel with the women between 18-40 demographic. . .except for today.