Posts Tagged life

Blink

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.

Blink

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.
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22 Years. . .One Lesson

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This red bull was a huge part of my childhood. It was always in my abuela's house. It now sits on my refrigerator in my apartment. In its own way it represents our relationship. . .all Mexican with a Texan spirit, fragile, but untouchable when I'm near.

So, here I am.  It is just shy of 5 a.m. and I have been awake for about two hours – simply one of those nights.  Oh, and it’s my 22nd birthday!

For the past two hours I stared at my ceiling fan rotate lazily, walked around my humble casita seeing if there was anything I overlooked when I went on a cleaning frenzy yesterday afternoon, and stared at the dancing rain on my street.  All week I’ve been waiting for today to arrive because I will have the chance to see mi familia and spend time with my collegiate familia with no worries.  Yet, each time I glanced at my watch I couldn’t help but allow my mind to wander to mi abuela.  I try not to think about her because the amount of time I had with her was. . .unfair and simply put. . .I still hurt.  Already as I glide my hands over these keys. . .the tears have not only formed, but found a way to escape down my cheeks.

For the past few months, I have been struggling with the decision to share my final moments with her on this blog or just scribble them away in my journal.  I just made the decision. . .

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