If only it would have rained yesterday, it would have been my perfect kind of day. It was beautifully overcast and at times the sky threatened to bestow the earth with it's tears but alas, it never came through. I went to visit my parents in the afternoon. Someone was mowing out back as I made my way across the front lawn and through the door. The house was quiet and dark as I made my way through the rooms looking for my mom. I glanced into my old room and then into my parents, followed by the room that Marcos and Mario can both now claim. The sheets were off all the beds and I smiled. It's amazing that little things, like sheets off a bed, have the power to bring back whole years of a person's life. I was hit with such emotion that I was a child again.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Memory seeking . . .
If only it would have rained yesterday, it would have been my perfect kind of day. It was beautifully overcast and at times the sky threatened to bestow the earth with it's tears but alas, it never came through. I went to visit my parents in the afternoon. Someone was mowing out back as I made my way across the front lawn and through the door. The house was quiet and dark as I made my way through the rooms looking for my mom. I glanced into my old room and then into my parents, followed by the room that Marcos and Mario can both now claim. The sheets were off all the beds and I smiled. It's amazing that little things, like sheets off a bed, have the power to bring back whole years of a person's life. I was hit with such emotion that I was a child again.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Education
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Thinking about . . .
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Today I turn 27 . . .
Monday, July 20, 2009
To Wendy . . .
Saturday, July 11, 2009
In harmony.
The other day I was driving home from work and witnessed a peculiar event. I was stopped at an intersection and happened to be watching the man who was trying to make a left hand turn. He was patiently waiting for his turn, so patiently in fact, that his lips soon fell upon the cool metal of his one of a kind harmonica. I was taken aback. Waiting to make a left hand turn had never struck me as the perfect time to get “blues-y” and jam with your harmonica, but hey – when the mood hits, it hits.
It actually was something that made me smile. I, and the countless others who might have been watching could have thought that it was odd but this gentleman was content. He was in harmony with his life and who he was that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, he was going to play his music. I admired that and maybe more than I want to admit it – I envied that. I don’t believe that there has ever been a time where I didn’t worry or wonder what others thought of me. I have even, at times, taken it to the extreme and placed all my worth on what everyone, including random strangers I pass on the street, might think of me. It led me to the conclusion that there is so much out of harmony in my life, in my mind. I have struggled the last year to try and discover where my place is and how to be comfortable being me and honestly I have been failing. I guess that is why when I see individuals who are who they are, regardless of anything else, I find hope that with time and work I too can achieve that sense of self. And hey, maybe it starts with me learning how to play the harmonica – any world-class teachers out there?Monday, June 22, 2009
The land of tumbleweeds and Horchata . . .
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Sub of the . . .
Sunday, May 24, 2009
24 on the 24th!!!!!!!!!!!
Saturday, May 16, 2009
5 down, 95 to go!!
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)

Thursday, May 7, 2009
Longing.

I long for motherhood. I think from even before my first memories I longed to be a mother.
I have thought a lot recently about longing and hope and disappointment. Part of this human struggle we call life, is facing the contradictions that seep into out hearts as joys and pains. We all have these contradictions in some form or another – no one is exempt and we can’t get out of living without them. I pass hundreds of people daily but somehow I forget that their pains and sorrows are as real as mine. Why is that? I don’t have all the answers, but I do believe it goes beyond our own selfishness into something deeper, maybe something that takes time to fully understand and grasp. I know that I’m not there yet.
While I might not fully grasp the sorrows that are embedded deep into the heart of those that pass me by I do know about one sorrow that has been mine – longing. Motherhood, to me, is sacred. I have a profound love for the little ones that call me Aunt or Tia – Samuel, Mason and Ethan. They are bright lights in a world of darkness and bring hope to the hopeless, as all children do. But I am not their mother – they have those valiant women they are lucky enough to call mother who I know they will praise forever and for that I am grateful. I am grateful to witness the love that Marcela and Wendy show for such choice spirits and I only hope that if I am granted the chance to be a mother I would follow in their loving footsteps.
There are many loving individuals that would say that I don’t have to have children to be a mother but I believe that they are wrong. Words like that are often said to comfort and tell people that while they might not have had the chance to experience giving birth or adopting a child they have indeed impacted the lives of the children that they know. Those are kind words that are often true and I would gladly accept them in reference to my being a good Aunt, cousin, friend or teacher, but in my humble opinion we only have one Mother. My mother means more to me than there are words to express and with all the hope that I have, I want one day to be for someone what she has been for me. In that wish is the hope that one day I will hear a child’s voice call out for mother and know that they are talking to me . . .



.jpg)
.gif)
.jpg)
.jpg)