Don't let go

if i had a time machine
i'd go back and close my mouth
i'd take your hand and kiss you strong
and never let your fingers go

Mi hoja

Mi lindo
sales de mi como
una hoja llevada por el viento...

the rain

the rain

            As a young girl and a teenager I had a very romantic view of the world. Partly caused I’m sure by the copious amount of Disney movies and musicals I gobbled up at home. In high school I imagined my future romances with all the lovely trappings of the romances and romantic comedies I filled my brain up with. The strongest image and dream for me was to have my first kiss in the rain. You know one of those Darcy declaring his love moments but with an earlier happy ending and mutual profession of love. In fact I intimated this fantasy to the first boy I dated. And we waited and waited for that sublime moment to seal our mutual affection with a dramatic magical kiss. Every time it rained we would both text each other “it’s raining” but he never got to me in time.

            Today I instituted change in my life. I cut all my hair off and ran my hands through my Mia Farrow pixie and felt strong. I dressed for class in a big sweater and combat boots and left sans umbrella. After teaching my students and enjoying our lesson I looked outside at the torrential downpour, which had begun. I walked with a student talking for a while, then finally was able to walk alone blasting my music in my ears. The rain poured and I took off my sweater to further protect my backpack from water damage. The drops rolled down my face, in my eyes, to my chest. I did not have a moment where I danced or met my true love. I didn’t kiss any sweet but shy boy who was perfect for me. I walked alone my head held high and my shoulders back. I enjoyed nature’s baptism. I felt washed anew. Reborn. Strong. Free. My life is not what that little girl or teenager expected or hoped for. But not all fairy tales have princes and not all need them. Sometimes a happy ending is a girl standing tall as she walks through the rain.

Etching memories

Please stay a little longer

I am etching you

Into my memory 

Every smirking boyish smile

All the chocolate warmth 

That swirls in your eyes

The lilt of your voice

As you tell a story 

And the geometry of your lips

Just sit a little longer 

It's almost done 

A painting of my friend Jordan Reyes

Night Wanderer

Night Wanderer

            She lay still next to him; his warm long body nestled between the lavender sheets. His soft calm breaths fill the room. She rests her head upon his chest but her eyes will not yield as she tries to join him in peaceful dreams. She gets up quickly bouncing like a sparrow across the bed to the freedom of the carpet. Blue and deep it swirls like an ocean she must cross. She pulls on a long sweater and walks languidly to the next room guided by a stream of orange that spills through the window onto the floor. Without thought she pries open a rickety blind and looks at the fuzzy halo that lights the night. Her mind bathed in colors.

Explosions

Explosions

He spoke to her in explosions. His words like crazy firecrackers popping around the room. “Wanna go bowling with me?” “Wanna go grocery shopping with me?” She knew very little about this boy except that he mispronounced her name and made strange comments about her paintings. She was always so startled she loudly squeaked back “No!”. One day she waited locked out of a building, freezing. As she stood up to leave who should walk up but him. Her hair freshly cut and her body adorned in a black leather jacket, he looked right at her. His face slipped into a Cheshire cat smile and he purred, “I like your hair”. She stammered an awkward thank you and followed him into the building; they had never been alone together. She began to get out her supplies to begin to paint; the building was so silent. He said nothing, wouldn’t even look at her. She watched him walk into the bathroom and shut the door. Then she waited and waited. Twenty minutes later, he came out.