Life As I Know It

It’s my usual Sunday night, me rummaging through notes and notebooks, editing and writing. I stood up and went into my writing closet. Realizing that the binder I wanted was at the very top, I stood on a stool and yanked at the bottom of the stack. Swiftly it all came toppling over me, hitting me in the head in the process. Papers and folders scattered everywhere. I grunted. I began picking them up one by one when I ran across a manila folder gently titled “WEDDING” in block letters, with a red heart sticker following the word. I’d forgotten I was planning a wedding. I slid slowly to the floor till I was sitting and I began to go through its contents. There were lists of first dance songs and father/daughter songs; clippings of flower arrangements, swatches of fabrics, notebook entries of budgets, and location listings. There it all was. Very detailed and organized. All I ever dreamed of, all I thought I ever wanted. And on the last page, on the back cover of the folder, a pasted...

Growing up when people asked me what I feared the most I had only one answer. Most people would say spiders, or insects, big dogs, or even heights. Those are usual fears and it’s even true that they were some of mine. But quite frankly even at a young age I knew what I feared the most. Regret. Regret is a peculiar thing. More often than not, in the moment, we don’t know if we will face it as part of the outcome for our actions. We direly hope that the doors that we close, and the paths that we choose are inevitably leading us down our very own yellow brick road to blissfulness. Regret, like hindsight, is 20/20. The truth is that none of us are perfect. That we won’t always make the right decisions. That sometimes we will do what we can with what we have. And that inevitably we will face that life has a way of disregarding even our best intentions. A couple of weeks ago my first love got married. I met the news with so many mixed emotions. A downpour of thoughts crosse...

It was a late afternoon when she received a text from one of her best friends to meet up for dinner. It’d been a long day at work. And she needed a bit of distracting. So they met up for sushi. The waitress had just finished handing them their menu’s when her phone rang and her other best friend was on the other line. She smiled and said “Oh look who it is” showing the phone to her friend across the table. “Hello Sunshine!” She said in her usual cheery voice. What followed were a multitude of pleasantries, and there was an eerie sense of worry that came over her. She knew in her heart that, that conversation had much more to do with something important than what the weather was this time a year. She could hear the nervousness in her friend’s voice so she finally said   “So what’s up? What can I help you with?” “Well, I don’t know how to say this.” And her heart sank “Well just say it.” She squirmed in her chair. “I received an invitation in the mail.” “And?” She sti...

When I was about 12 or so, a sneaker company came out with these skating-tennis shoes. Just regular tennis shoes that could turn into skates. They became the rage at the school I went to. And everyone who was anyone had a pair.  So I of course, begged and begged till I got my pair. They weren't easily given. I had to pick up extra chores, be extra sweet, be super obedient, and look at my dad with puppy eyes many, many times before he even considered getting them for me.  Needless to say that by the time I got them, I was ecstatic; happy that I now too possessed the biggest fashion trend at school. When the first day of school came after I bought them, I was so blissful, I planned my entrance and a whole outfit around them. That day I got to school, I walked into the cafeteria beaming. But as I prepared to show them off, only one worked. So there I was skidding to a complete stop, quite abruptly, right in front of another kid who had his tray in his hand. I plowed righ...

I drove home in a gray afternoon. It’d been a long day at work, the kind that keeps you so busy that you haven’t a minute to think about a single thing. Frantic, with deadlines, and people pulling you a million directions. Needless to say I was drained, and utterly exhausted. I pulled up to the driveway, and shut the car off. As much as I wanted warmth, I didn’t hurriedly dash for the front door. Instead, I looked out of my passenger window and saw my dad gardening in the front yard. It was his favorite thing to do. And he was so good at it. His green thumb made everything flourish in effortless beauty. I loved that about him. I hadn’t noticed how depressing our yard looked. This winter had been so bitterly cold it had taken hostage most of the plants. But brown and wilting as they were, my dad kneeled beside them adding fertilizer and water. He was also attaching pieces of tarp to his beloved rose bushes, shielding them from the winter frost. I thought it was monotonous, but ...

7:01 in the evening. It’d been one of those days. Those terrible days where it seems like the whole worlds against you and you’re only holding on by a thread. My body ached from head to toe. My mind numb from all the inflicting thoughts that lay in it. My head throbbed as my pounding heart beat unnaturally. I came home to find the house completely still and empty. I looked into the kitchen, a plate labeled “Dinner” Had been left out on the countertop. And a “PS” added “wash the dish afterwards.” As if I needed reminding. But I wasn’t hungry. So I grabbed the dish and put it in the fridge. Pulled out a bottle of red wine. The one we’d got from the vineyard months ago. After pouring myself a glass, I went into the bathroom. I took out every candle we owned and light them up. I went into the hall and put on an old record. Mile Davis. The melody soothing and calming. I turned on the hot water. And poured a whole bottle of bath bubbles. I got undressed. And I stepped into the bath. I n...

She stood outside for the first time all day. The sun shined brightly enough to remind her it was still fall. But the breeze was fresh enough to whisper that change was coming, and the end of the season was fast approaching. She embraced herself and sighed melancholically. And a sudden surge of sadness swept her face. She took to her front steps. And stared straight into the sky, a flock of birds, were passing by, nestling on the light poles, it seemed like a swarm of them. Flying south for the winter – she thought. “How I wish I was you”. She said out loud to no one in particular. But she did. In that moment, wished she too could spread wings and fly as far away from here as she possibly could. It was strange how binding a location can seem when all you want to do is get away. How the 1,619,090 million people, the 59 square kilometers, with over 100 skyscrapers, all of a sudden can seem like a 4x4, narrow, asphyxiating box. She envied the migration of the birds, the way that ...

The following story got related to me by the male protagonist. I for one thought things like this only occurred in movies. So I present to you a story that has no real happily ever after. A story of what closure looks like when we try to out run it. There she was dressed in white. Radiant and breathtaking. Every bit of her oozed happiness. She looked at him adoringly, held his hand ever so tightly. A smile turned the corners of her mouth every time they caught each other’s eyes. That day, in that room, wedding bells were ringing and a love everlasting was to be sealed. HE took to the right side of the room. On the very last row. On the very last chair. He watched the woman he loved marry the man She loved. The vows were exchanged and she expressed her love and happiness. She made promises of forever. Promises HE once heard. Promises HE once made. And when it came time and the preacher asked if anyone objected, her eyes never wandered. She kept her gaze in front of her, in fron...

It was the third day of spring. I was sitting in the passenger’s seat talking away the drive. I’d been so long since her and I had been on a night out alone. But there we were, headed to a day of errands, a late dinner and a movie. We were discussing an upcoming trip to NYC and when it would be best to take it before or after the wedding. And the subject turned to Wedding. I took over the conversation asking her a million questions. I always valued her opinion most of all. She knew me better than most of all. And as the unofficial Mexican Martha Stewart, her opinions truly mattered. So I spilled over on wedding colors, and decoration likings. Flower arrangements and mental lists of prices. I rambled on about seating arrangements and list of guests. Never noticing that the more I spoke the more she responded less and less. Her mood heavy, a tear was shed. So crazed into my future I’d forgotten my present. It was in that moment she looked at me and said: “I’ll miss you.” Ther...

I think Barbara Streisand said it best. “Memories may be beautiful and yet what’s too painful to remember we simply choose to forget. So it’s the laughter we will remember, whenever we remember… the way we were” I’m sure that’s the way I’d like my autobiography to be written like. Or anyone else’s. Just the good times. The scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind . But if it were so, then wouldn’t big chunks of our plots be missing, making it impossible to just understand why anyone could ever be just happy? In truth, how can you recognize happiness if you’ve never cringed with sorrow? My life comes in volumes. Some I’d sell to Hollywood, some awfully wretched, but nevertheless never, ever, uneventful. My friend and I have this discussion often. I say that everything happens for a reason. She says “Some things should just never happen, they should be completely avoided.” And sure, I’m a sap for a happy ending. But what is an ending without the tale? Last weekend, whi...

It was mid day Sunday when we went over to visit a friend at a Geriatrics center. We sat most of the time discussing what to do about this Friends health. And explaining to his son, who had come down to visit from up north, the critical issue of this friend’s relocation. See he’s in his mid 80’s now and often forgets taking his medication. He now needs care 24hrs a day. But all our good intentions are now short of the care that his family can give him. As my father discussed this with his son, I sat next to this dear old man and the love of his life. She’d lean in to talk to him since he’s hard at hearing. And he’d look at her intently with the sweetest sadness in his eyes. There was warmth in the way they spoke to each other. And their love radiated in the way they’d smile at one another. The decision to uproot him from his home was a hard one. And we all knew it. He’d live next door to the love of his life for 25 years. They never married and to anyone else it seemed lik...

“Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories” (An Affair to Remember)   It was the first day of winter today. The first day in November a chill filled the air. So cold you bypass the shadows and head straight for the sunlight paths. But it was there among the cold I walked alone. I was running errands and getting swept away by the Monday Blues. I made it to my car finally and got in as quickly as possible. I burred loudly as an alert flashed the screen on my phone. I looked down and realized my calendar was alerting me of birthdays and such. I scrolled down and I saw his name. I found it strange that I still held this information after so many years. Even more surprised when I realized it was in some way comforting. And in that car alone, on the first day of winter, with a chill in the air… I felt warmth. I was only 15 when I met him. I was Cinderella at the ball when I met him, and he was the prince who found my lost slipper. I remember it well. I was...