She kept her son’s room exactly as it was. She kept it this way to keep his innocence and preserve his memory because there was nothing else left.
Nothing was ever moved or changed. His baseball hats were hung on the same hooks on the back of the door. Posters still on the wall. Clothes still in his drawers, jacket still hung on the post of his bed, and his baseball magazine was placed exactly as it was and unmoved on the nightstand.
This was his boyhood room with boyhood memories. This was her son. He was the lost one that went to something which no one saw coming.
Love Your Life Now
There is an unwritten rule somewhere, although, it’s rarely followed our wishes. The rule is Moms are not supposed to get sick or leave. Dads are supposed to know everything. They’re never supposed to leave. This is a rule.
There is a rule about our grandparents too, like Grandma and Grandpa. They are supposed to have hands with a touch that no one ever forgets.
And their eyes and the way they speak or the way they smile; there is something so powerful about them. There is something about the way the room changes as soon as they walk in.
Stick-to-it-iveness
The Old Man used to tell me there was something I needed. He told me this one thing is the exact thing you need to get through life. He called this stick-to-it-iveness. This means no matter what comes or what happens, no matter the pain or pleasure, no matter the passion or the problem, whatever you choose to do with your life, and I mean what you really choose; you have to stick to it no matter what comes your way. Otherwise, the consequences are severely unfortunate.
Continue readingPrompted By A Song
I was thinking of a song last night. I thought about the intro of a bluesy riff that began with the words, “I am an old woman named after my mother. My old man was another child that’s grown old.”
Then I thought about the next line which is, “If dreams were thunder, lightning was desire, this old house would have burned down a long time ago.”
Putting In The Work
If I could do anything at all, I suppose I would start here, right now. I suppose I would start with this and then I could move forward, as in onward, as in better. I suppose the moment we understand the benefits of our ability are often underestimated, we realize our ability is the exact thing that empowers us to move forward.
Continue readingThe Time We Have
I have never been sure what happens to time. I only know that it moves fast when you wish things could slow down. I know that it was just yesterday that I was so much younger. The world was a different place to me. The City was like a romance novel with wild, unexpected turns. There was action and suspense. There was drama and tragedy, comedy, thrillers and times when Central Park held a different sense of dignity to me.
Continue readingSessions from the Balcony: Beauty
I do not believe that we have to conform to any shape or size. In fact, my version of beauty has curves. The idea which believes beauty is flawless is already flawed in itself. Beauty has flaws. This is what makes us beautiful. Beauty has no particular shape which to me, if asked, I will explain that my version of beautiful is not connected to you or someone else’s ideas.
No, not at all. In my case, my version of beauty is beautiful because of what this means to me.
The Farm: A Dream I Have
There are these ideas I have, which are important to me, but I keep them a secret from most people. These ideas are nothing more than tiny dreams of mine. I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. I have always had them, the dreams, I mean.
Of course, I have dreams. I’m alive, aren’t I? I believe anyone with a heart has dreams.
Don’t you?
It’s Time to Breathe
In the morning when you wake up after life has turned you around and the aftermath of all that’s hurt you is too raw to think about and when the idea of recovery is too far from the concepts of reality; your mind is flooded with too many thoughts, your body is tired because it’s too hard to find rest, and when the soundtrack in your brain is made up of the conversations that went wrong, the truth is there’s really nothing anyone can do at that moment, except breathe.
Continue readingWe’re Always Growing (Even If It’s Only a Little)
I have always appreciated the warm fascinations about little towns and country roads with nothing on them but pavement and the occasional car that drives by on the way to go someplace else. There are towns like this, so small and unheard of, yet, they do exist. They have little stores and maybe a barber shop where the old men gather.
They probably have a diner in town, which everyone goes to and they have pies there, like peach cobbler or maybe even key-lime with a little puff of whip cream swirled on top.
The Written Addiction 