life

Mother Nature And Her Secrets

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20130513_115423This happened on Monday over Miami; a big ring around the sun. Being from a fishing country where back in the days TV and meteorology report was not available to many, the fisherman would rely, and I believe some still do, solely on this weather patterns to elect to whether or not go out to sea. I always heard and the weatherman confirmed it, to be a phenomenon indicating impending rain. Yet, there are others who find it to be mystical, spiritual, somehow divine. Whatever it is, whatever you believe, it was awesome to watch.

20130513_114623

A Letter To My Mother, Second Take!

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FlowerMom, I remember you having a mile-long list of things you wanted to realize but could not wait to hang your teacher’s baton to pursue them. You made plans to enjoy life, to breathe and live the world whenever time permitted. You were looking forward to retirement and could not wait.

Your dream was to travel the world, visit countries and see your girls whenever you felt like it, and for as long as you pleased. The plan was for you and Dad to do it the way retirees usually do.

You yearned to jump on board a big cruise liner, sport kaki shorts and Hawaii shirts, sunglasses, designer hat and cruise the world; hop on a plane and land in the nearest town, chronicle your latest adventures, take and share your many photos with us. You dreamed it all and were on track to do just that but it was not to be. The Almighty had a different script and your wishes were diverted, thrown off course.

Your husband first earthquake – he came down with not one but two and three strokes – came like a full force hurricane. It brushed his wits and for the avid reader that he has always been, it was an unintended prescription tantamount to a death sentence. The illness progressively ate up his brain and his physical and emotional behavior for a while; never mind how long but it was a while.

Locked blindly like a prisoner, it battered your body but did not take an ounce of your energy or soul; and like one good warrior, you soldiered on, catching the bus or taxi, whatever means of transportation to the hospital everyday, sometimes twice a day to visit your husband, to spoon feed your guy, your soul mate, your man.

Through it all, you tirelessly became his eyes and ears; his translator, his nurse, his companion in chief. You, the once delicate invulnerable flour in my Dad’s eye, metamorphosed into one-woman machine who (un)selfishly and meticulously lives by her very script of “God had other plans for me and I have accepted”, and no one dares say a word because you refused to hear it.

You could have commemorated your 53th wedding anniversary last week; yes, could have are the words but it was not there. I hoped to seeing you strolling down the aisle, flooded by your loved ones, hand in hand with your unselfishness, and his bashfulness and hearing the priest pronounce you “husband and wife” once again, but it was not to be.

I recall you wanting to celebrate a deux, fearful that he would not have any recollection or get too fidgety to even grace the event. Instead, it went by, like any other day. I did not call you purposely, so not to upset you nor remind you of the beautiful life you once had. So, I let it be.

I imagined you sitting in your bedroom, alone, at the tip of the bed, going through pictures, sobbing, reminiscing but that was just my imagination. I don’t know how it went for you because I did not dare ask you how the day went.

You have not talked about touring the world lately and I don’t believe you have stopped dreaming, nor accepted the fate that has been delineated for you either. Perhaps, beneath the seemingly stalwart veil, there is a glimpse of hope that you, one day, will be able to be that famous tourist you once longed for after all.

Your devotion to him, your irreplaceable love, transcended imagination. It was beyond belief. Yours was a bond that I will neither be able to mimic nor replicate but I observed it and am proud of.

Mom, I just don’t know how you did it. You were a locomotive, one woman Inc., your own superwoman. I can vehemently utter that I am jealous. Jealous of the sense that I wanted to be you but I am not. I will never be you; I will never be like you; I will not even pretend to be you, but your daughter I shall always be. You are one of a kind!  Thank you for being my Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Note: This was originally written in 2009 but minor changes were made to incorporate my father’s passing last year.

You Did Come Back!

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IMG_1198Rare is the day I am out and about, and not be approached by a person panhandling for some kind of donation at an intersection. If it is not the kids having a car wash or the firefighters having their annual fundraising, it is some church, homeless shelter, schools fundraising, car wash solicitations or someone selling flowers, fruits, toys, shrimp or a hustler… You name it, they are all there. Sometimes, at the same time, jamming the streets forcing drivers to maneuver around them.

Sometimes you give, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you buy, sometimes you don’t. I wouldn’t dare buy shrimp on the street but would buy roses.

They look suspicious sometimes, like at the gas station the other day when a woman approached everyone in their radar with a story that she needed $10.00 to buy gas to return home to Georgia because she was dumped by her husband.

Just like popcorn, my “goodness” button immediately started popping, going into the giving mode. Oh yeah, in this trying times, why not help a mother who was in agony and fallen in hard times. So, I gave and then some, without a doubt and felt good about it, unaware that I had fallen for the cheapest trickery in the books.

Without a blink of an eye, I bought the tale cheap. Oh yes, I did but the surprise, however, was on me. I see her again, two weeks later while at a local supermarket.

She appeared in a different part of the neighborhood, this time with a friend and two kids, tattling the same old song. What she was unaware of, is that I was ready for her this time. I recognized her from afar and was not about to let her exploiting me or anyone else as a matter of fact.

Let’s face it. I am an artist. Perhaps, she should have not mess with an artist. We get faces stamped on our foreheads and can draw one with eyes close; well some of us can.

She walked straight up to me, yes, me, no one else, as if she knew I was a “giver”. I guess something in me read “stupid” or fit into her perfect mold because I could not understand her “straight shooting” target. Yeah, I may be a giver but despise those who exploit and use others.

She was out of luck this time. I was not having it.  She and her friend not only got an ear full, yes I looked like mom bear ready to attack but also heard from the supermarket security who was right on their tails with all his magnetic force. They run faster than lizards on the trails running away from a squirrel before they could scream, help. If such thing was even possible at that moment.

IMG_1196There are instances when one really feels that something to help but others…

There you have the panhandler looking plain, with a semicolon. Like an homeless who one clearly sees that she/he needs help but is dumped on the streets with the sole purpose of collecting and hand over his/her earnings to his/her pimp who is awaiting on the next corner. However, there are others who are sincerely in need, desperate; their clothes fifty, their shoes messy. Then, you have the punks who just hang out to make a few bucks for beer or cigarettes without a desire to get out of the funk.

So, it brings me to this story.

I was running an errand the other day when I had to stop at red light. As I waited for the traffic light to turn green, I was approached by a physically challenged gentleman, at an intersection, limping on one of his legs with a white bucket on his hands, fundraising for his church in exchange for a leaflet of prayers. Just as I was pulling money out, the light turned to green and with million of cars behind me, I had no choice but go but not before shouting to him that I would come back. Hum, yeah right. The look on his face said it all. Yup, he did not believe me.

So, I went my way, run my errands and was on my back when I noticed that he was still there, at the same intersection but on the opposite side, patiently spreading the word about his church. But this time, I was approached by a different gentleman and not him.

I declined and indicated that I was looking for his friend. Again and by the fluke of things, just as he was calling for him, the light turned to green, the car in front of me moved and million others behind me went bananas. So, I did the unthinkable, the kind of thing I would criticize any driver for and if I were behind me, I would be buzzing at me too, mad as hell that I was not moving.

I let my ethics go south and decided to go nowhere fast this time around. I was not leaving until I gave the cash to that man. Hello, my reputation (yeah, who died and set it because It is not like he knew me) was at stake here.

Just like a robot. I took the amount out of my bag, made a fast stop, slammed the breaks almost causing a fender bender, put the money on his hand and remarked, “I told you I was coming back”. He took it, smiled back, surprisingly touched and replied, “Yes, you did come back!”. Yes I did!