Home Sweet Home

I'm visiting my family in Vegas this week. I always love coming home to my parents place... my mom is an impeccable housekeeper, she cooks amazing meals, breakfast to dinner and now days, we get along soooo much better then past years.

My father is always working on an exciting project, this time it happens to be his memoirs. He shared with me the first few chapters, it brought me to tears, happy ones, I can't wait to read it in its entirety. I'm spoiled and will gain 5 lbs while I'm here.

I sleep in my old room that is now under redesign, I don't recognize it as mine... I've been rummaging through my stuff packed away in the closest and drawers... the things one finds.


I went through my old photography stuff, images that I want so much to burn but am told, "don't you dare". Among my stuff, I found a picture my alternative photography teacher, Mr. Gomez, took of me a few years ago. I'd been hiding it away, tucked away with a number of other memories... I think I've been hiding away with them.

Recently, I've been finding myself wishing I had no possesions, wishing I had nothing holding me or reminding me of things long forgotten. I want to live off the things that stir within me now, the sounds around me, words spoken, a pretty color, music playing, limbs moving to the music, I want nothing and yet everything I suppose.

Just Passing Through

An elderly man at work in his garden with denim overalls and hands resting upon his shovel, he is taking a break, admiring his progress. He turns to me and says hello, he then cautions me to watch my speed as he gestures to the speed limit sign of 25mph... I walking, assure him I will. He has kind eyes and a gentle way about him. As I continue on my way, I notice he then continues conversing with, most likely, the love of his life, she standing on the upstairs balcony looking over their backyard and upon this kind man and his garden. They together, in the early afternoon sun, he her Romeo and she his Juliet.

I soon come upon a small home with a small porch. A young girl, a teenager, sways on the patio bench swing. She looks peaceful, with dark hair and fair skin, her eyes drawn down and hands caressing her belly, she is somewhere far away that I cannot see. I think to myself, this is a precious moment, she facing a new chapter in her life and the life of this small child, safe in her belly. I wonder if worry or uncertainty runs through her mind and I want to tell her all is beautiful, all is well and she especially. I stroll on with her memory, vivid and sweet.

Soon enough, a big yellow school bus goes zooming pass me, down the long stretch of homes lining the old paved road. It is the last day of school and the beginning of summer. I begin to notice the crowd of young kids, on street corners, crossing at street lights, embracing their new long anticipated freedom. Their excitement is obvious and contagious, to be young again. Seeing them causes me to recall the moments of my youth when the world and it's possibilities were endless. I can so easily taste of their excitement.

Across the street I see a young girl and boy, hand in hand, in love, I'm sure with thoughts of splendor and kisses. Young love, special in it's own right. Love without much thought and experience, naive and temperamental but oh so wonderful in a young persons heart and stomach, it'll never be like this again. She likes his taste in music and he likes how she does her hair, they're inseparable, trying to figure this strange world they walk in together. They'll probably break up in the next few months if not weeks but they'll remember each other an entire lifetime, with sweetness and an enduring innocence. Before expectations, judgements and monumental decisions, two young persons embrace each other for what they swear could be forever.

Coming up on Wendy's, with splattered frosty's melting on hot pavement and kids uproars of laughter and dyed hair of wild colors, they fill their bellies. The lyrics 'Schools Out for Summer, Schools Out Forever' rambles on in my mind. With 2010 yearbooks in hand and signed t-shirts on their backs, this scene has graced these same streets many summers before them and will for many summers after but to them, they're the first, they're the center, center of the universe. They wave to random passing cars with a brave giddiness, their way of perhaps connecting to a bigger unknown and yet to be explored part of the world. Soon enough, they'll be jaded by their world but for now, their spirits roam freely and bring with them, my memories of my time at the center of the universe. Inside, I thank them.

I walk, I drive, I cry, I laugh, I sing, I eat, I run, I pray, I sleep, I dream, I see, I amidst a great big world and in these small moments am laced and forever intertwined with those who I unanimously walk along side. They share with me their heartbreaks and joys, their monumental moments and moments of quiet. Their memory is impressed in my mind and are now apart of me.

This thing we call life is truly perfect in all things, particularly in those things that are seemingly imperfect. During the course of my journey I am approaching, going through or passing the moments someone once walked and as I do, I share in it with those whom I quietly walk beside. I am more alike than different with my strangers, we secretly know one another.