The Promise Behind a Kiss

    Our family had just gone through a devastating moment that would mark my life forever. I was six years old, and my grandmother Memi had just passed away. I was too little to grasp the true meaning of death. My eldest brother Eduardo says that while we were driving, well on our way to Memi's funeral service, I said, “We have to go back! Memi forgot her reading glasses.” Memi was how we called her, Eduardo the eldest of five, three brothers and a sister, named her that way back when he was too little to pronounce her real name, “abuelita Mercedes.”

    Memi was the sweetest grandmother. I would sit next to her while she enjoyed sewing with what now would be considered an antique. Her machine was the classic gorgeous Singer, black, with gold letters and heavy metal foot petals. I saw her sit there in front of the machine for what it seemed like long hours. I would go visit her in her room as soon as I came back from pre-school. I saw her stab her finger endless times and would just watch her press it tight to stop the bleeding. I don’t remember any of the conversations we had; even though my nature was quiet I’m sure we had plenty. My many memories with her are from being right next to one another, watching her work. She taught me how to sew, how to crochet, how to knit, and that is what I remember with much fondness, her warmth next to me as she would patiently show me and correct my missteps. I felt love, no judgment, no criticism, just love. When I poke my memory, I recall her with an air of sadness about her. Even though I was too young to pick up on it, at least on a conscious level, I was old enough to feel it.

    Memi passed away rapidly. I don’t remember seeing her bed written more than a week. I was already in first grade by then. One morning we were told to say goodbye to her, since she was to stay some days at the hospital. I entered her room quietly wearing my school uniform, all fresh and ready for class. This was the same room we filled with our energy of love, bonding and just simple happiness from little moments in life. Her body was lying down in bed, she seemed sleepy, real tired. We gave each other a kiss and it was the last sweet kiss I was lucky to share with her.

    So, there I was in the car riding to the funeral, totally oblivious to the real meaning of death. As we arrived at the open casket service, I realized my whole family was there and I remember playing with my cousins and sister. At one point I noticed the casket and asked one of my brothers to lift me up to see her. Memi looked so beautiful, so rested unlike the last time I saw her. My mind was satisfied; she looked good, as if she was sleeping peacefully.

    Later on, we gathered at the cemetery and things began to take on a different feeling. We walked in a dark room with giant cold marble walls; I could feel the silence in my bones as I walked in. I had never seen a place like it before, I heard sobbing and all faces turned somber and quiet. People were not chatting anymore like at the last place we gathered. Soon enough I understood why, they began to lift up the casket on a tall crane, then slid it in a niche, sealing it with a slab of marble, way up top of the tall sleek marble wall. I was confused, terrified, I pulled on my mom’s hand; she was standing next to me as I asked her, “What are they doing to Memi?” I think only at that point my mom realized how little I understood what was going on. I can’t remember her answer, truth is I don’t even remember if this question was only voiced internally not finding its way to my vocal cords, lost in the memories with Memi. That moment shook me from the inside core of my being, it left a piece missing in my everyday life. That day took the simple moments, when the sole presence of someone you love is all you need, and words are not needed or invited. I learned that from her, to embrace the quiet in me and the simple moments in life.

    And so, another chapter of life begun. Memi’s room was empty now and my parents decided to take her room at the other side of the long hallway. This meant my mom’s new room would be a long walk from mine in the middle of the night, there was no way I would walk that long hallway in the dark, it was way too scary. I would just have to call mama louder, that’s all.

    My sister Fiorella, my dad and mom all moved things from my parent’s old room to what now would be their new room. It made sense; after all it was a big room with access to our beautiful garden. We left the heaviest piece for last, their queen mattress. When it came time to take it, we all chipped in. I doubt I was much help, but we all pulled, carried, and pushed it. Finally, we made it to the other side of the hallway into Memi’s old room, we laughed all the way and it felt good to know it was ok to feel happy again.

    As we made it and pulled the mattress up onto the bed my parents laughed and gave each other a kiss on the lips. It was quick, it was sweet, it was the beginning of many happy moments we would share in that room, watching movies the four of us, having fun. It was the only kiss I remember seeing them give one another ever. I will cherish that memory forever because it was born from a sad moment that we turned into happiness, new beginnings, and the promise behind a kiss. I wished it would have been the beginning of many other kisses, but I will take it, even if just one. That kiss is my promise of a new dawn. It symbolizes the willingness from the soul to always look for love, in the face of adversity, even in the face of death. Hope leaves its stamp with a kiss because a kiss is nothing but a seal of hope.

Destiny in Cursive Letters

    Some girls dream for decades for that special ring, from the first moment they set eyes on that romantic scene from the typical romcom. Dreamy guy on his knee, takes out that special little box and all the hearts of the romantic dreamers suddenly beat as one, galloping faster and faster to the point of orgasmic inspiration. To our disadvantage our minds now have the perfect scene, with background music and all. That is exactly how it will be! It will be amazing, wonderful, spectacular. Our veins run not with blood but little, tiny microscopic red hearts beating all at once, rejoicing in joy for a ring and the promise behind it.

My ex husband Sean gave me one of those once, but being the practical person he is, he took me shopping for it to a department store. I was 20, he was 26 and we were being helped by an eager sales person who begun explaining to us what the clarity of a diamond meant, hoping his day was made on an Tuesday morning sale. But to the salesperson’s disappointment his explanation about clarity was, well, so clear, that Sean was drawn to a beautiful ring that looked perfect except did not have the clarity of the other more expensive ones. Being that we were not rich and no diamond experts, we loved it. We paid with my credit card, which he reimbursed back by the next week as promised. Suddenly I became a fiancée, two kids decided it was time to take that big step, not having any idea what we were doing. I loved my ring with awe, my friends were impressed, even though none of them would be crazy enough to marry that young, but their sigh at first sight of the ring was genuine. Little hearts ran through their veins, their hearts beating as one if only for a second. The joy of a dream was born, the promise of a happy ending.

Years later when Sean and I divorced that ring came off my finger forever and so did all our dreams, for us and our beautiful daughter the end of an era had arrived. My gorgeous ring went inside a safe. It has stayed there since, not seeing the light of day in quite some time. Except for when upon request I showed it to my daughter and promised it would be hers one day. I’m sure the ring can’t wait for that moment to arrive either, for it must be very lonely in a dark safe, full of USB drives and boring documents. What fun is that for a girl’s best friend! For some time after the divorce I wore nothing, hoping the sun would erase the pale imprint left on my finger, and eventually it did.

So, I began my quest for the coveted position to grace my single finger once again. By then I had met someone, my boyfriend’s name was Mathew and he had surprised me with a trip for my birthday to St. Augustine. We walked all over town, holding hands, kissing at cross roads and taking pictures of one another. Suddenly a cute shop opened up to us like a mirage saving us from our long walk on a Florida summer’s day, and of course we walked in. While shopping around I felt the need to turn to the side as if cupid himself had poked me with his arrow, and there it was, THE RING. It wasn't real gold, not even gold plated, it read the word LOVE in cursive letters and it was the closest to little hearts in my bloodstream I had felt in a while. I bought it and put it on with excitement, joy I’m sure Mathew though was cute without grasping the depths of it.

That ring has been with me ever since, two breakups with Mathew, a few attempts to reconcile and our last breakup. The ring has been there for the bad and the good times with him. During the joyful times my fingers met very close with his. His soul‘s stories intertwined with mine.

It had been there for me also during the many auditions I went to as an aspiring actress, witnessing success but also rejection more often than I hoped for. At a fun commercial audition I went to, where I had to place ornaments on a Christmas tree, I heard a faint sound, like a pin hitting the ground in slow motion. I disregarded it since I thought it was an ornament falling. I didn't even think of looking down until I touched my finger while leaving the building, realizing the ring had left me. Immediately I thought of going back but something stopped me. It was time to let go, whoever finds it needs it more than I do now. I said my goodbyes to it with a big smile that filled my blood stream with little hearts, so little you can only see them with a microscope, beating as one if only for a second. The joy of a dream was born, but this time the promise of a happy ending didn’t come from a relationship or a ring, for the first time it came from within.