Letters From a Son: About A Hike

I saw my first butterfly of the season last Thursday. It was mostly yellow with black dots and a black border around the edge of the wings. Strange though; I seldom see butterflies in the city—let alone 32 stories up on the roof of a commercial office building. Of course, I smiled when I saw the butterfly. I smiled because the timing was perfect.

Yesterday morning was an Continue reading

Growing Up

In the earlier days on Merrick Avenue, the neighbor would have her grandchildren come and stay with her for a few days throughout the summer. Both were military sons with a father in the army. Both were younger than me. The oldest grandchild was younger than my by two years and the youngest was younger than me by three years.
They were good kids. Different from most of the boys I knew; the two brothers were fun and lighthearted. Neither of them wa Continue reading

Written for the LaSpina Family

Back when I was somewhere around the age of 10, I made this decision to head down to the basement and play around on my brother’s weight bench. I was too small and too weak to lift any of them. I tried though. I tried to lift his weight bar that went across the bench. I pushed as hard as I could. I clenched my teeth; my arms reached upwards with hopes to push and lift the bar and weighted plates from the rack, bringing the weight bar down to my chest, and then pumping out a few quick reps.

Unsuccessful with Continue reading

Class Dismissed

And so of any, this is the first page I write in a new journal.
This is the first paragraph to detail a new journey. It all starts here at page one.
This is where my yesterday ends and I begin.

It all starts now . . .

I remember when I started with this commitment. I promised myself—no matter how busy the day is or what happens; I made a pledge that I would write my thoughts and work towards this goal I have of becoming a writer.
I remember the first time I sat in Continue reading

It’s Worth The Trip

I sat in a bench of armchairs at a little airport in the small town of Melbourne, Florida. The hour was early and the airport was mostly empty. Overhead, the lights brightened the white ceiling and glowed over a blue, Miami style carpeting.
I was amongst a small group of passengers that arrived early to quickly slip through the security checkpoints. Men in suits walked with urgency. They passed with business hats on their heads, a newspaper folded in half—tucked underneath the free arm while the other gripped to the extended handle of a wheeled, carry-on bag.

I admit that I am a guilty fan of people watching. Yet with no one around to watch, I settled down to take in the sights. I could see the morning sky through the tall windows throughout the gate area. Airplanes slept dormant Continue reading

Suicide Awareness

I was in a small room across from a desk in a small office without any windows. The office was not specific. The desk did not belong to anyone in particular. There was nothing in the room that would indicate this was an office in a psychiatric ward at a hospital. There were no scales or any sort of medical apparatus in the room. There was only a desk with a chair behind it and a chair in front. There were a few posters on the wall, which were more like pharmaceutical advertisements than anything else.
Near the door, which was wide opened to the hospital wing, there was a Continue reading

The First Without You

Mother’s Day May, 8,2016

Of all things I think I said most, I probably said, “Don’t worry about it,” more than anything else.
“Don’t worry about it, Ma” or, “I got it,” was probably one of my most frequent responses to you.
When you asked me if I did my work in school or cleaned my room, I said, “Don’t worry about it, Ma. I got it.”
When you told me not to do something and warned me that I could hurt myself, I told you, “Don’t worry about it, Ma. I got it.” before rushing out the door.

Moms take care of us when we’re sick.
They clean up our messes.
they put band-aids on our cuts and Continue reading

You . . .


You . . .

You are a soft and gentle idea.
A feeling, perhaps.
You are a delicate shade of thunder
that rumbles with a sense of intensity
but moves in slowly to overwhelm the sky.

I am thinking of you as the sky weeps . . .
rain falls in large, drop-like tears.
The sound of wind rushes passed the homes
situated on a small quiet block.

It is daylight and still,
I am dreaming of a long slow day
that I wish would never end.

I am thinking of a couch along the wall
set below the front window of a modest home.
The long flowing drapes opened enough
for one to sit on the couch
and stare out into the empty suburban street.
Continue reading

A Letter From A Son

As I’ve grown older, it seems as if life always gets in the way of things. I make plans but plans change. I tell myself, “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Next thing I know, tomorrow passes and days add into weeks. Then weeks turn into months. In a blink of an eye, time passes, and I wonder how a year can move by so quickly.

I once saw a documentary about time in relation to size. Take a mosquito, for example. A mosquito has a lifespan of 24hrs. To you and me, that’s only one day—but to the mosquito; that Continue reading