Here’s looking at you, kid!

The ocean was its most amazing self today. Lounged on the chair, the sun burning my winter bleached skin, eyelids closed tight as the light seemed to pierce through them if I didn’t, the hum of the waves caressed my ear drums. I once said I will bottle the sound and the scent of this beach, and share a vile with you to have for your lowest of lows. You’d pull the cork, and like a good ol’ champagne that respects its vineyard, it would spread its aroma all around you. That and the sound would be the best medicine for a sore soul. And the world would be whole again…

I do have one little regret about today, though. I got another sunburn. My skin doesn’t really agree with my ideas of absorption of light,  and it fries itself at the first exposure that lasts longer than 5 minutes. It must be a recessive gene from my Transylvanian ancestors. Come to think of it, I don’t really think I have any on that part of the country, though, so maybe vampirism must have been wider spread than everyone thinks…or maybe it’s just old genes that act up badly like that…

But I digress. I am not entirely ready for the next year. Not because I might have unfinished business, but because the celebration attire I had acquired for the occasion will go unnoticed because of my “radiant” skin. Oh, well, who needs fancy anyway?!.. Little feet granted me the use of the trampoline for tomorrow “All to yourself” was the statement. “I like looking at you when you jump, you look so happy!”. I will take happy over fancy any day. And what better feeling can one have than going back to the pure, unadulterated mind and disposition of a child? What compliment can be a better confidence booster than “here’s looking at you, kid!” in the most authentic meaning of the word? Back to the beginning! That’s where it all starts. That’s where paths are cut into the rock, where precious stems sprout from the burning sands, and happiness has all the colors of the rainbow.

Here’s to the child in you! Wings ready? May you allow him to wake up and lead your maturity. To more than just another New Year’s celebration. Those kinda’ make me feel old…with a very young heart…

 

That’s a marsh.

I’ve never thought I would be so excited over a cup of coffee…Granted, I love coffee, quite a lot, I might say. But from enjoying a cup of coffee to whirl up in a happy ball…well, it is a pretty long shot…

The weather changed completely, from dreary and dreadful, to feisty and fabulous. The sun is warm for a change. I skipped on the jumping today. Just got in the car, followed by little feet’s sad eyes. They read betrayal, but I pretended not to be literate in body language…horrors of parenthood, I guess…A little friend was coming to replace me soon, so not much guilt there…

I past by my marsh. There is a low tide again. The marsh is all dry, and dusty, and lifeless. Almost. You can still see a stork or a pelican here and there…but they are hungry for more, and fish migrated to high waters. I know that because someone went fishing yesterday, with a fish finder, and didn’t come home with any fish…

I hit a Starbucks with a friend and her daughters. Meeting the daughters. There’s lots of talk on both sides, so meeting was in order, just to put faces with name. I had my camera and had stopped to snap a quickie of my rocks…for some reason I never have the chance to catch those colors. Maybe they’re just in my head…my own point of view about life here…but I really want you to see what a marsh truly looks like. Well, in its good days. Especially in the mornings. That will be my next mission.

But if you look closely, you can recognize the signs of a great view, even in this rusty, tired looking picture. And, for those of you who haven’t seen one, that’s a marsh. And that is my dream tree. It really feels more lively when under that tree, on those stones. Don’t know who put them there, but they must be there for the soul. Whomever’s needs it most. Have a sit. Smell the salts. Watch the life around you. Take some with you, you know, for the rainy days.

Self preservation – not a guide

I rediscovered reading. I don’t have time to pick up a book, and that is really annoying, because I love reading. I build a view of a place from a book, or two, or more. Each adds a new twist to  place I haven’t seen before. In my travels, when getting to one of the places I “know” from the books, I try to discover the details that stuck with me and created that vivid image.

Too much imagination and a lot of free time, my dad would say. And he would be completely wrong. On both. I don’t have any time, never have, that I could use to imagine things… I dream things while doing my chores, when I want to block my boss’s rantings, when I need to climb the pile of “stuff” that someone put in my way..but no real time to imagine. No imagination, either. I am quite creative with a purpose, very resourceful when threatened, but completely bland when it comes to sprouting a fresh new idea without any roots…

I read through posts for the last few days, mainly to kill time. It’s so nice and cozy in the house. And, until today, it was so dreadful outside, that, even if I wanted to, I still couldn’t get myself out of the house for longer than a couple of hours… Other’s thoughts can be entertaining. Fun, similar, different. Just enough to make boring look cozy for another day. Today, with the sun sparkling everywhere, they seemed off. Very similar. Addressing the same things. Me. Not me, but their own me. Self.

It got me thinking, which is never a good thing, because monsters are born out of my analysis most of the time. But someone had to assume the risk, so, if my house gets egged, that’s why. I started thinking about self-preservation. In its real definition. It comes awfully close to selfishness. By today’s rules, it is mostly defined as the act of thinking about oneself. A lot. In every situation. I’m not advocating pros or cons to this fact. But it sure got me all riled up inside. I see a lot of self-preservation around me. By the new definition. Does that mean that the world is turning into a sea of selfishness? Is self-centeredness the new black? Or is it the norm?  Is it just a perspective on things? Is there something I’m missing? Must be. But all this wondering about my own thoughts…am I turning into a self-preserved person? Was I one before and I’m just now realizing it? Ah, growing pains…and questions…

I guess it’s my questions day…

a word, please

One should always entertain the inner child. Granted, there are limits to things. But they are only in other people’s eyes. One is as happy as their heart is; so if your heart screams loud and wants you to run, oblige it. Hearts run our bodies, if we trust them with all that responsibility, then we should trust they know best. I know, the expression is “momma knows best”, but in this case she may not. One man’s crazy is another’s wisdom…

I’ve asked for wisdom this year. Santa was great and didn’t laugh in my face. He did try me, and left a trampoline by the house. Well, not really left it. It had to be put together. In the rain. The elves were a little busy and, well, not available, so it came down to the usual suspects to assemble it…In the rain. Past midnight, when Santa was close to finishing his errands, the bouncy thing was done. All put together and ready to receive the fun seeker. In the rain. It was calling with soft, enticing whispers. So I decided crazy is more fun than wise…and went for it.

The shoes came off and I found myself in the middle of the circle, on the marked spot, in the rain. I bounced a little. It threw me up. Not too high, just enough to get my stomach in my throat. Whoa! Fun! I bounced higher, and little sounds came out shyly at first, and more and more clear. “This is fun! Fun, I tell you! Woohoo!”. A pair of eyes was staring at me. “Shhh! You’ll wake up the neighbors!”. Oh. Ok. Noted. Fun buster! Just one more time. Please! Turns out jumping on those things is addictive. You can’t “just stop”. One more time means as many as your legs will hold you to have…but the hardest thing of all is flying without a sound. That could not be accomplished…

In the morning, little feet trotted down the stairs toward Santa’s gift, wrapped in all sorts of quirky sounds; I guess it runs in the family. The neighbors came out to see. Apologies were issued for the nightly sounds. “I was up anyway” came back the answer invariably. Oh. Ok. Well, as long as I didn’t keep you up! But just a word, please; don’t put those pictures on facebook…you know, private life is private, and some things should stay…well… in the rain.

 

dungeons of my childhood

Ok, here I am, on the roll, down memory lane…The weekly photo challenge did this! It brought it all up. It’s fresh and vivid in my mind.

Like the dungeons I fell in when I was 7. I was running like the wind, in a walnut grove, the only one left in the city, trying to find a hide out. Hide-and-seek is a serious thing for a kid. you got to make sure you have the best spot, where they can’t find you…that’s the only way to win. My favorite place was at the very top of the hill, a hollow in the oldest of the walnuts, large enough to fit me, but small enough to be easily missed. A raccoon was there most of the times, but I always won the battle of the sneers…it was my spot. To get to it you had to leap over a little ditch, or that’s what I thought it was at the time.

I sped up the pace and threw my right foot forward, to leap over the ridge. A vine caught my left foot, and splat me down in the hole. I grabbed hold of the weeds, the spikes of a wild rosebush scraping the skin on my wrist, and looked back. I could hear them closer and closer, but it felt like the ground was sinking. That simply could not be, I knew that place like the back of my hand…spent all my running years on it; so I tried to pull myself up again, but the little bush I was tugging on slid out of my hands, leaving a slimy, bitter smelling, green mess. I put my hand under my chest and my hand sank into the ground beneath me…then it was dark, dusty, and the musty air seemed liquid. My chest was throbbing, and my side felt wet. I could hear voices, but couldn’t open my eyes.

The voices were right on top of me when I finally found enough strength to take a full breath, so I sent a cry up, towards the noise. I tilted my head back, and saw the sky shining just as it had a minute before, blue and clear, between the grass roots. I looked around, trying to find something to help me get myself up. All around me there were bricks, stuck neatly into the wall. To my right, a tunnel stretched as far as I could see in the dark. “are you ok?” the voice was crystal clear, kind and concerned. The young man jumped in, right next to my foot. He squatted and looked like he was digging for something. I looked at his hands, and a sharp pain shot up my leg…he was digging my right foot out… I felt hot tears washing down my face, but no sounds came out when he picked me up. The dust was swirling fantastic creatures in the sun rays, as I looked around, over his shoulder. I promised myself I’ll come back…

It was fall before I knew it, and walking to school, my very first week, holding my mom’s hand, I passed by the grove. The wind was whistling through the almost bare branches and the air smelled like wet, fresh turned dirt. I gazed to the right, towards the top of the hill, and my heart cringed!  There were workers at my hole! “what are they doing?” I asked with half a voice… “they’re cleaning up the tunnel you fell in. It’s a very old one, from the times of Stefan the Great. I’ll take you there this weekend”.

On my way back, i snuck away from my group, and sneaked through the hole in the fence I knew so well. The grove welcomed me with sunshine and cracked nuts on the ground. I ran up to the top, my book-bag swinging side to side as I ran. The workers were gone, and a set of steps were there. I went down in the hole, and a gust of wind blew my hair in my face. As I pushed it aside, I could see the path was cleared, and was going deep into the dark. I followed. I heard footsteps behind me, so I meshed into the wall, in the dark, holding my breath and blinking fast. The steps were right in front of me. A hand reached out into the dark, right near my face. “Come, I’ll show you the way”. It was the young man that helped me out that day…I know he laughs still when he talks about that day. He was my first hero. And he is a good friend.

The dungeons are no longer open to public these days. They made my childhood a dream, and made “Indiana Jones” look like a joke. No treasure was ever found, though..They could not secure them, and more and more kept popping out in all the city, so the city hall decided to burry them. I cried that day, when the first truck was dumped in. They were killing history! But children have small voices, and they don’t know things like grown-ups either…

It’s already tomorrow…

I looked at the clock a few minutes ago…I should be in bed. But a conversation had started about eternity and perception, and I lost track of my own reality…

Browsing through the latest posts, I stumbled on the weekly challenge. I had so many examples, who knows, I might just break my own record and post all of them… but one stood clear in my mind. I looked for it everywhere for quite a while, it’s quite old. Perhaps it’s my oldest memory. It might just be…I can remember every member of my family, some gone now, being there with me one time or another, mostly summers, though… Strange what reality we carry with us throughout the years.

Here’s my strength, my rock, my heritage. Here’s my forever. And a day!

I’m a wild flower…

Not me. It came out of the communications guy’s mouth during an event I was covering as well with the kids. They were setting the cameras and he was getting right in front of them “to take a good shot”. I bit my tongue a few times. You’re really not supposed to use sarcasm in the presence of your students; teaches them that disrespect is ok, and it never is. And I teach them to respect all creatures. Especially the less fortunate ones… But, one step too close, and he knocked over one of the cameras. The child caught it on time, so nothing was broken.

Five minutes later, when the apology had not come, I gazed right into those transparent eyes and and spit “Apologize to him, please” between what was left of my livid lips. The apology didn’t come; instead a grimace appeared on the creature’s face. “Nothing happened, ok? Your kid is ok, good catch by the way!”. I could feel the thunder deep in my chest. It was one of those, “oh-oh!..” moments, when you don’t really see the clouds, but you hear the rumble, and you know for a fact you need to run for cover… The heavens broke loose and the white waters washed out all the heaviness off of my soul. Ahh, the power of free speech! And the freedom that follows!..

As the light came back into my head, there stood in front of me a soaked face, blinking and gasping for air. The ravaged expression told me the scene hadn’t been a pretty sight. I looked at my students. They were hiding their smirks well, but, by their rosy cheeks, you could tell they had been biting their lips copiously…I turned back to the culprit. He looked at me with “puss-in-boots” eyes. “You can’t be like this with me! I’m a wild flower! Your humor is something terrible, you know!”. Uhm, humor?! Wow, I must have been very elegant this time! Not that I’m not alway elegant, but for him to think I was trying to laugh with him…whoa!

He’d lost me at “you can’t”…My boss just happened to stroll by and with a cheery face she threw me a smile. “Hey, boss, he said he’s a wild flower! Any fertilizer around? He looks a little withered!”… She choked back a giggle, shook a finger at me, gave a an accomplice look, and kept going.

I looked at the poor unlucky fellow that had crossed my path…can’t you read the “wrong way” sign, baby? It was written all over me from day one. “None shall touch them!”. In any way! I looked at them, but the kids were already back to their posts, snapping pictures and interviewing away… I later found out that they had bets on me. Smart kids…they won. But the wild flower was still frantically flapping its dull petals…I felt sad.

Wild flower…there is only one that I can really picture with clarity at all times…the rest get blurry, but there is a beautiful wild flower that I know, that’s unlike any other. It comes out of the snow in the dead of winter. It smiles to the sun, fills the air with the sweetest fragrance and stuns everyone with its resilience.  But it won’t live in the house for more than a couple of days…It must have something to do with freedom… And that, I completely understand…

And if tomorrow never comes

I’ve just seen “Inception”. If you have seen it, you’ll smile. If you haven’t, you’ll smile just as well…so go ahead and smile; it’s good for you as latest research shows…no, really! That’ll be my gift to you tonight. You know you need one…

As for me, I like to think that I smile without reason. I like to think a lot. I think a lot on regular basis. I think too much on any given moment. I am not proud of it. I am not ashamed of it, either. But for the first time in forever, I’ve found my excuse, my ocean…of thoughts. They all came together, to weave and wave a lifetime of alternates. I have been born with a back up plan. And a plan B to that. I’ll hit the ground running at any given time; and won’t stumble much. But it always seemed fake. Like a part of the whole was missing. Now it came together. In a way.

It’s not prettier than before. Nor can I say I found myself and my rightful path in life. I cannot even state with certainty that I am here for the right reason. But I can see why I could be here. The whole picture. An interchangeable view. A me made image. An adaptive scene, changing with every deeper look into the eternity. A kaleidoscope. Sort of pretty, kinda boring, patterned, switching colors and shapes with every move. And if tomorrow never comes, I’ll just snuggle tighter in my cushion of self, and smell the coffee. There’ll always be coffee. No matter what. And in the steam of my piping hot, enchanted ambrosia I will build my castles and raise my kin. Who said reality is true anyway?…

 

crossing the bridge

Caution! Bridge may ice in the winter. I’ve seen this sign so many times…yet I have never seen it in a place that would lead me to believe it could really and actually ice. Not ever. Not likely anyway.

South of Texas, and especially islands around here, do not seem prone to icing in the winter. I know, I am repeating myself; but it is simply to make a point. A guy put this on facebook today “Cut out all these exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald. A countless list of responses followed. Conclusion: who cares what the rules are anymore? People like to laugh, and sometimes there is no one to laugh with, so entertaining oneself doesn’t seem like such a crime…And besides, back in the day, when proper English was still used, this little cautionary, please note I didn’t say aggressive, comment would have echoed, with, most likely, great results. However, given that we live in the present, or so we like to believe, our needs and patterns of expression have changed. Hence the exaggerating punctuation and humor pretenses.

There are those, like me, who have been taught a certain way, and can still feel the piercing glance of their English teacher stuck to the back of their head, trying to drill through the skull in order to faster reach those synapses and “fix” the brain. For us it’s harder to cross the bridge. And we always look at the sign with fear. What if this is the year it did ice? What if this winter I’ll skid? What if everything I fear will come true?…What will others think of my exclamation marks? Am I overdoing thing? Am I compensating for…

Sounds familiar? If it does, maybe it is because you see all around you how the use of a psychologist, or a counselor, or simply of self introspection books is making most everyone doubt that they can live another day without over analyzing or being told how to think, live, breathe and talk. The societal rules  are quite clear on that one…you can only take that many “faux pas” before you are labeled and discarded…Or maybe, just like me, you think too much.

So! Crossing the bridge today? It’s really not something you’ve never done before, you probably do it daily and don’t even realize it…You are probably so familiar with every little rock and pebble, every little seagull and pelican that can crash in front of car, every gust of wind, and every ray of light shining, just like every morning, brightly, right into your eyes, blinding you for the whole length of the bridge….So comfortable with each of these elements, that you could get ice or snow, or heavy rain, and still dance through it all with your eyes closed…

There is no real explanation for this, or promises that it will indeed go as smoothly as described, but there is a chance that you are as great as you never though you are. Because it’s so much easier to see the “needs improvement” than recognize the beauty and strength within. Feel those eyes in the back of your head? Are they screaming “you have to be modest”? Listen to them; modesty is always welcomed.

But know that you are, in all, a mighty creature who has got it all. All you have to do is believe. 
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Carrots are good for your memory!

You may have heard this in a different way, but here’s how it was explained to me this morning. We went out on the beach for a winter picnic. Yes, you CAN actually have a picnic still, despite the December chills. It was a little gray out there, but the air and the sound of the waves beat any grimness…Took all the goodies, and entertainment for little feet, so we’re not running into any “galloping around and screaming my lungs out while chasing seagulls is not enough” issues, and off we went.

As we drew closer to the beach, little feet kept describing the wildlife, as seen through the window. Each interjection preceded by “did you see that?” and and excited jerk in my seat… A lot of deep breaths were needed to keep me from pulling over and strapping the enemy to the back seat so tight that no limbs would even dream to reach me. “No; not really, what was it?” I blurted constantly… Of course, the educational goal was to get the complete answer out and stimulate the little mind to express itself in many words, and in the same time, to keep all of us safely on the road, all while avoiding the dull moments for the child. The descriptions never failed to come. One more colorful than other. ‘…with red feet…aww, they are so small and cute, and they are fire red! did you see that?”

“..and that cow has a stork…did you see that?…why are storks friends with cows?…” That, I wouldn’t have an answer for even if tried..beats me why a stork was hanging out with the cow, but we’ve seen them together most times we went to the beach, so it was “one of those things” that I was not going to put my mind to today…

As I entered the beach, trying to find wet sand so I don’t get stuck when we leave, I felt the little hands grabbing my face and turning my head. I tried to hit the breaks as slowly as I could, as sudden breaks on soft sand don’t go too good with the above mentioned parking philosophy…and turned to little feet. The explanation was ambiguous, but the excitement was genuine, so I swallowed my words and took a deep breath. “Look, look! Your stork!..you didn’t see that either..and it was going to fly away, and you would have missed this one, too! You need to eat more carrots!”

My eyes flew open, and most likely the confusion  was showing in my expression. “what do you mean?” “carrots are good for your eyes, you know; they help you see better!” True, or false. But good enough explanation for me. “and they’re good for your memory, too!”

That just so didn’t ring any bells. “Now, how is that?” The innocence looked at me through those fearless eyes, and by the serious look on the little face, it was gonna be a good one!…I choked back a giggle. “well, if you can see better, you can really see all the details, so next time  I tell you about it, you’ll remember, and not ask me to tell you the same thing over and over…that’s annoying, you know!”… All those six years felt like a lot right there… Did I raise that? No way; I cannot assume the merit for this kind of logic. Maybe it’s genetic…and I just got skipped a generation so that’s why it’s so fresh…Whatever it was, the giggle came out, and the little face blossomed with pride.

I grabbed my camera and “really saw the details”. Here they are, just in case you’re by the ocean one day, driving. It’ll jog your memory, and it’ll also help you to know what in the world they’re talking about…not that you’ll ever master that, but here’s a little help from a friend!