Life As I Know It

The following short story is dedicated to a dear friend who among all things always believes in happy endings, even when the girl doesn’t get the guy. So here it is, for the eternal optimistic, who always believes in love. She fell in love the most way women do. Among flattery, promises of moon and the stars, and dreams of a fairy tale ending. And she believed in love the way most of us do. Blindly. He was charming and kind, she was swooned and easily fell head over heels for him. Their love blossomed over constant hours of conversation about everything and anything. And even though many opposed the idea of a long distance relationship working - she thought of it romantic and endearing. Sadly after a couple of years and an engagement later it all came crashing down. It was a late winter day when he told her through an email that HE fell out of love. She read it over and over hoping that among those lines there was something she missed. So there she sat staring at the end of what seemed...

Like any grandmother, most of my grandmother’s house was decorated by old priceless possessions. Mementos of the eras gone by, of the people and the moments in them. I had to be extra careful while in the house, never to touch anything for the fear of breaking it. But as any curious child the untouchable seemed tempting. In my grandmothers armoire under a box of letters and papers in a plastic bag was one of my favorite untouchables. It was a rebozo (shawl). This was no ordinary shawl it was made purely of silk. A rebozo so light and thin died the perfect shade of black with a fringe knotted into elaborate designs. Intricate knots looped together that you knew took hundreds of hours to make. On one occasion when my grandmother wasn’t looking I found myself wrapped in it, playing. And as life would have it the fringe got caught in the doorway. The more I moved away from the door way the more the thread unraveled. I remember feeling like the world was going to end in that very instant. ...

They say that truth hurts. That hearing it is a release of honesty but a sharp incision in the heart. The truth can free you of the anxiety but it can bind you to feeling the consequences of its reality. Anchoring you. The thing in telling the truth is that though it’s an honest act, a moral act, that doesn’t mean that what you have to say is what others would like to hear. “I find myself drowning in yesterdays, and talking to sadness.” She says. And that’s when she gets that look. That confused, hurtful, shocked, gleam in the eyes look. I’m sitting at my favorite coffee shop over hearing a conversation near by of a girl who recently broke up with her boyfriend. He cheated on her or so she says and she finds herself at the time heartbroken. Her friends gently pats her shoulder and says “it was better to find out the truth than to continue to live a lie.” And she sighs. “I may have the truth now but I also have the pain that comes with it.” She replies. Her friends says “You will be fin...

Why is it that we are built with the desire to be loved? Appreciated for what we are, tolerated for what we are not. And what in us makes us envy those who have found it so that when your friend shows you her drop dead gorgeous ring makes you wonder where your prince detoured? In a film love is portrayed so effortless. I mean, it would be nice to believe that one day I’ll walk into my favorite coffee shop and he will be walking out - as we carelessly spill our coffee and offer a million apologies. Our hands will touch. Our eyes will meet. He will smile, I will gleam. Music will play and our lives will be forever intertwined… … … But life doesn’t happen that way. While talking to a friend who is in her early 30’s, she sighs as I tell her of a mutual friend’s engagement. She looks at me and says “Where is my happy ending?” What do you do when Prince Charming seems to be taking longer to arrive? Do you buy a neon light in the shape of an arrow pointing towards you? Do you wear a t-shirt t...

"If I could have known this then my dear I would have done things differently." That's what I kept hearing. I was watching and old Hollywood movie and the tape got stuck on these words and in the background a familiar tune, "I'll be seeing you" was playing along. The scene repeating over and over and my thoughts followed along. The thing about contemplating the "I could have, would have, should have's" in our stories is that they leave us in the same place. No solution land. Because the past is the past and there is nothing you can do about something you cannot control. Someone wise once told me that some things happen for a reason. You might want something but it may not be what you need. You just have to recognize it to stop hurting. There are some endings that are difficult to understand and even cope with. But thats the thing about life, some things just are and not a power in the world or the most wishful thinking can change it. And you co...

I sat there listening to my friend complain about the girl he was involved with. Her lack of commitment has him a bit confused and bit worn out. And I may not know what to do when it comes to love. But I know what not to do. So as I sat there telling him time after time exactly what it was that he needed to stop doing, his hopeful heart would make up excuses for why she acted the way she acted. A part of me hurt for him, another part wanted to shake him. But when the heart it that much involved rational thinking is like trying to explain to a teacher why your dog ate your homework. Completely useless. So it got me thinking --- Why is it that no matter how bad it really is something within us makes up theories of why it’s not going our way? He didn’t call all week “He was really busy, you know, work, the mtgs, service. It’s a lot” She can’t commit “She has a lot going on she must have problems. And I shouldn’t pressure her. I need to be more patient” I don’t believe love should be a bat...