Super Hero Pants

    I was working as a plans processor visiting the City of Miami Beach Department almost daily. Plans processing was my permanent job before my daughter was born and I worked until the day I was ready to pop. People at work thought my water would break anytime and my energy would hit me in waves of strength that quickly faded into exhaustion. After Amber was born I stopped working and became a stay at home mom. I was the perfect mommy, the crafty kind that was obsessed with Martha Stewart. My divorce quickly shoved me back into the work force doing what I knew best, plans processing. My old life was quickly fading away and my previous job had changed quite a bit. Technology took over building departments making the job of a plans processor less needed. I still had some accounts and I would do it part time, making a lot less money. Plans processing was the kind of job that required a lot of waiting next to either other plans processors or contractors. One day while waiting I met a plumbing contractor, he was sweet, kind, and really good looking. We started talking and soon I recognized him, he worked in some jobs with the construction company I worked for. He said he was about to start a new job with them and since I ran errands for them he asked for my number to keep in touch. We exchanged them and soon over the next week I was delivering some work supplies to him.

His company was small, in fact it was just him, there was no office, the deliveries had to be made to his apartment. I parked the car one morning in front of his place and knocked at his door, it was still early. He opened up with no t-shirt on and superman-pajama pants. He looked like he worked out daily, maybe hourly. He invited me in for coffee to which I replied with a kind smile, "no thank you." I handed him the supplies and left. As I drove away I tried to recover from his superhero abs. Soon I received a text from him, thanking me for the delivery and urging me to stay for coffee next time. To which I replied with a kind "you are welcome," and then added, "nice pajamas." Comment that was enough for him to put the kryptonite away and ask me out on a date.

We went to the movies and Sushi. At dinner I casually asked him his age, to what he joyfully replied "twenty three." I almost choked on the spicy tuna roll and looked at him in shock. I promise, he did not look that young. "I have nephews older than you." I replied in shock, "I'm thirty seven!" He could not believe it either but he did not care. Of course! I thought to myself, the cougar thing again. These kids don't care.

Yes, if you are curious to know we kissed that night and it was a great kiss but I couldn't see myself with someone so young and now that I'm in my early forties I don't regret it but remember it with a smile. Eventually he stopped trying to convince me to give it a try with funny, sweet texts. And well, I moved on to dating someone around my age. So wherever you are Superman, I hope you are making your Louise Lane very happy.

The Long Overdue Birth of Isa

    Today's dating world is far different from the one I left behind when I married my now ex-husband Sean. When destiny managed to dissolve our marriage I was almost forty, with a daughter and back in the dating game. It's hard when your life is shaken upside down and all you are left with is a manual on dating circa 1980s and 90s, when land lines and answering machines were the norm. And so my divorce opened up a world I had not visited in quite some time; Miami night life.

I remember one night my dear friend Sandra asked me to join her out; she said she felt like dressing up. I went to her apartment to get ready with her and we chatted nonstop like we always did. It was particularly fun to dress up with her since she is the spiritual kind and a club is the last place you would find her at. We walked to a nearby venue to celebrate the birthday of a very well-known casting director. The place was packed, swarmed by twenty somethings. My friend and I were in our mid-thirties and even though we did not look it I felt the weight of it. I mostly felt it by my desire to be anywhere else but there. A guy started talking to my friend. He looked so young; I giggled knowing I would tease her for it later on. That night mingling brought about brief meaningless encounters and Jeffrey could have been one of them, tall, cute and really young. What on earth could this kid want to talk with me about? I though. I was getting ready to kindly dismiss him with a smile except his words were kind of interesting. "Which one would you pick?" He said. "Which one of what?” I replied. “Sorry." I said with a dopey smile, "Can you repeat it?" He quickly replied. "Einstein said, There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. Which one are you?" "Oh, that's easy" I said with pride. "Everything is a miracle." I felt like I had just won a game show and he was about to hand me the keys of my brand new car. "And you?" I enquired. "I’m still figuring it out" he replied. And just like that I was talking to a kid in a club, strangely having a great time. "What's your name?" he said. "Esther." I said "but you can call me Esty." "What? No, that name doesn't suit you." He said. "Well, truth is I never liked it, it's my mom's name and she doesn’t even like it herself. I said while continuing, “I love my middle name though, Isabella. I always thought it would be nice for people to call me Isa. I wished I could change my name, but… " He interrupted. "Yes, I like that; I'm calling you Isa from now on." I smiled and that night I found myself giving this kid my number after he asked. He did not called though, he texted. Last time I dated there were no cellphones, let alone texting. I quickly replied to him writing that I was at least ten years older than him but it had been nice to meet him. He was surprised about my age but he did not care. Another difference on today's dating, newsflash; cougars are in now. “Oh, I said, ok let's go out then.”

Our dating was brief, like a blink of an eye. I never got used to the cougar thing; the few times we went out I really hoped no one I knew would see us afraid of being judged. Truth is nobody cared or even looked. But I have to admit the real reason was dating helped me not feel the divorce I was going through back then. I was terrified to deal with the real pain within. Jeff was meaningful though because although he was young he is an old soul. A unique kind of person you can spot a mile away, in this case in a dark smoky room, and notice they are special without even knowing them. Even though we never kept in touch I know he is really happy with his soul mate and that warms my heart. I do have to thank him for that night inside a very typical Miami Beach club a not very typical new me was born. 

The Hunters of Good Within

Jane Eyre is one of my favorite novels. During the time of the Brontë sisters most novels were written by men. A female was mostly written from a male point of view. Ms. Eyre, written by a woman was one of the first female characters that opened up with so much passion and honesty about her romantic feelings. She not only tells Mr. Rochester what she feels for him but she dares to express love to someone above her station. My favorite quote from Jane is: "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! - I have as much soul as you, - and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you!"

The honesty in a woman's voice was heard and it was so loud it rippled through decades opening up doors to so many more of us who dare talk about what deep love loss feels like, any type of it.

Today I was praised by an old friend of mine after he read some of my stories. He said, "It's really interesting to see someone open up like this." He wanted to know if they were fictional or not. To what I replied that the characters are some real and some made up but yes, mostly based upon my experiences. His enquire came the same day a wise woman advised me to write from the heart, no excuses or exceptions.

In a world that strives for an image of perfection I have chosen to sometimes talk about the moments when nothing seems perfect. Finding the beauty in them makes it all worthwhile. Like Charlotte Bronte and the many who on a daily basis strive to follow her lead, I write as honestly as I can. Because in order to BE, all of me falls in the equation. And with it I hope to one day inspire some of us to be the hunters of good within.

Related story: The Alchemist

What's in your Fortune Cookie?

I was not ready to let go at least not yet. Drew and I had decided to try things again as soon as he came back from his business trip but as days went by I realized my chances were slim. He had not texted me or called during the whole trip. I had not reached out since I decided to give him some space to find out how he felt. His silence was clear coming from a guy that showered me with texts and calls daily. He was not the quiet type. I missed our conversations, sure most of them were very silly but I liked his humor and it always pulled a smile from me. I felt disappointed at myself. I replayed what I could have done differently so many times it was sickening. On one of those self-inflicted torturous nights I ordered Chinese which was the typical option when my daughter Amber was with my ex-husband and I was too depressed to cook. 

After my meal it was time for my favorite part. At least I have my fortune cookie, I thought. I opened the noisy wrapping with excitement. What if it said “love is around the corner” or “he will call, don’t worry”. Not that I’ve ever seen a message like that but anything could happen. I cracked the cookie and to my surprise, there was no fortune. None! That had never happened to me in all my years eating Chinese. I was doomed; no fortune was the worst news. I took a pause to reflect. Or was it? What if no fortune is a blank slate, a new beginning, although this time it would be me calling the shots. I decided I was not going to let any outside event shape my fortune. I would give him time like I had decided but in the meantime I owed to myself to be happy being me. I might not be in charge of my destiny but at least I’m in control of how I react to it and that is exactly what I was planning to do. It was an exciting new dawn and I did not need a cookie to break the news to me.

Related stories: Back to Second Grade, Flicking Channels

Striving to Remember

My friend Ines is experiencing the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s disease. Back in the day she was a very successful theater actress, gracing South American stages north and south. Now, she visited my acting workshop and critiqued us actors in inspiring ways. She was a good friend of our instructor and quickly became friends of the students as well. I would pick her up once a week for our workshop because ever since she got diagnosed she decided not to drive anymore. During the rides together we chatted of pretty much everything. She was a true testament of perseverance. The day she found out about her condition she did nothing but mind exercises to delay the process of it. She played board games, crosswords puzzles, memorized lines of plays, anything to keep her mind sharp. Together with medication she was seeing positive results and had better memory than I did sometimes. I always joked with her about it, making her smile with pride. She told me once that the hardest thing was forgetting details about the ones she loves. She looked at old family photo albums daily and tested herself on the names of all her loved ones. She feared the day she would not remember them at all.

Ines suffers from a dreadful condition she has no choice about. But it made me think of how often without realizing it we sometimes wish for the same. We hope we had never met someone now long gone or wish for some painful memories to vanish into thin air. Hoping a swift backwards brush stroke could take the bad and the good too, leaving the canvas blank once more. I have to admit I wished for that once while still wounded. I did it out of necessity in order to feel myself again. 

Even though wishful thinking did not grant me my wish, time was delivering it to me. Suddenly I couldn't remember some details of us anymore or things he used to say. I still remember though how his nose wrinkled every time he was about to tell me something painful that he wanted to hide behind a smile. And now I feared that one day I might forget even that. Memories wash away and the details that make someone stick to your heart start losing its grip. It is part of moving on I suppose but like my friend Ines I can't help to fear for that day. Now I wish time would not steal so much from me because I know somewhere while the wounded strives to forget the brave strives to remember.

Sally's Bow

I remember watching the Oscars one year like we always did with the whole family in the TV room. We all loved movies; we watched them at the theaters of course but also on a device called VHS. This device was like a big cassette player but instead of music it would play your favorite movie on the TV screen. It also came with a neat remote control tied to the apparatus by an umbilical cord, the latest in technology! Every weekend we would go to the mall and enter a store with a library of cassettes displayed wall to wall. I think it was then when my love for American movies flourished.

Fast forward the VHS of our lives and Sally Fields was accepting a golden statue. "You love me, you really love me!" While the actress gave the speech with excitement I remember my mom being as excited as her. Not with the speech, but with the stylish necklace that graced her. It was a diamond link shaped like a delicate bow. It was elegant and sweet, just like my mom. From then on every time Sally would get taunted for what is now a famous acceptance speech; I remembered my mom and wished I could surprise her one day with one like it. 

Today my mom turns eighty. She is a warrior, having looked at cancer in the face she stared at it defiant and healed herself with a smile. While recuperating from it she made friends with patients, doctors, nurses, everyone in her way. Of course that illness doesn't define her because that is how she has carried herself all her life. There is no circumstance in this world that would stop her from spreading her contagious joy. I wish the necklace I got for her on her birthday was made of diamonds. It is not, it is a delicate silver bow, one that carries all memories we have with one another. And like a sweet bow our love is intertwined forever.

Slap Jack

    My daughter asked me to play Slap Jack with her. We had a session of several card games, where I have to admit speed and luck favored her turning me into what resembled a preteen sore loser. "You cheated" I screamed. "No I didn't, you are just slow!" She replied. Having moments like this with her were priceless, she was growing up and the days where we would spend time playing with dolls in her playroom were long gone. Her Barbie house was now turned into a bookshelf, a daily reminder of shifted interests that everyone growing up journeys.

Amber asked me while beating me at yet another game. "Tell me your deepest secret mom." To what I replied "I don't have any." She added "Well then tell me your biggest problem right now." I said "I really need to concentrate on beating you, not now." "Well then I'll keep on talking about Marcus." She said. Marcus was a boy she passionately disliked at school and I had heard how much she despised him during the whole entire dinner. "Ok, ok." I said "Fair enough, we can talk about Marcus again later." I really was at a point in my life were things were good, I was content but there was one thing that was bothering me lately so I thought I would share it with her. I said to her, "Well I have been first optioned for two national, big brands commercials recently and somehow I didn't end up booking them. I don't know why? Maybe I messed up this last call back? I wished I knew why they did not go with me. And the money was great also..." As she beat me again, while shuffling the cards once more she said. "Wow mom, you have no problems." I looked at her, took a small pause and laughed out loud. While she set the cards up for another game she added "Let's go back to Marcus."

That night while I prayed, I thanked God for all I had. Looking at what we don't have is a mistake we often make but not me, at least not that night. That spring evening laying down on my bed a smile came from deep inside of me while I counted all my blessings.

An Embrace of Hope

    Insomnia struck again. I remember lying down on my now ex-boyfriend's bed looking at his hung paintings. It was a pastime of mine to drift to the depths of his mind plastered on canvas at night. As I was drifting away perhaps to dreamland my journey was abruptly interrupted by the ring of a phone. I dislike the kind of news that noise in the middle of the night could bring. This time they were indeed grim. Mathew's best friend Gerard had passed. 

I met Gerard one afternoon at the airport. I was joining Mathew for a family reunion at his dad’s house on the mountains. Mathew sent Gerard to keep me company since he was running late; afterwards the three of us would drive up the mountains together. The first thing Gerard said when we met while I gave him one of my warmest smiles was, “you make sense.” He said one look at me and he knew I was Mathew’s girlfriend. I knew who he was as well; kind souls recognize themselves at a glance I guess. We shared one of Gerard’s favorite things, a couple of nice cold cocktails at a Mexican restaurant in one of the busiest airports in the country. We chatted and laughed, he made me feel at ease before meeting Mathew's family and made me feel that way every time I would see him after that. That night I embraced Mathew in my arms as he cried his soul out, his heart was broken and for a moment he let me hold it in my hands. 

Like the alchemist I aspired to become one day I tried to turn his grief into hope. But I knew that would come in time. In the surreal world I created for him while holding him in my arms I wished one day he would heal the loss of his friend. Maybe then he would feel the imprint of what another friend left that night with a true embrace. 

The Alchemist

 

    Right before Sean and I divorced I went back to college. I wanted to finish my bachelors, having only an associates in fashion is not enough I thought. Unfortunately I could already smell grim days with him that peaked at me from ahead. I was afraid I would never find a job in fashion in Miami so I decided art history suited me. How much I would love to work at a museum or a gallery surrounded by beauty. That is all I wanted then, to be surrounded by art and the different worlds artists plaster on canvas. Every class with Ms. Whitman was a trip to those worlds. A dark room and a slide show, I loved her lessons.

I had Amber with me that day since she was still a bit under the weather. Ms. Whitman was strict but very understanding when it came to having my daughter attend her class on unusual situations like this. Pushing a stroller with a toddler into the room would always come with stares of twenty something kids that probably felt sorry for me. Amber loved this class, sure it wasn't her favorite cartoon show or Barney but she was mesmerized with the paintings as much as I was. Aside from the random question here or there she understood she had to keep as quiet as possible, like a mouse I said to her. With a sippy cup in hand and cheese crackers on the other, she was ready for the show. 

The class was Women Artists and today we visited the surreal world of Remedios Varo. I never thought such beauty could reside inside anyone's mind. Her imagination was wild and she gave us a visual trip for generations to come. Each painting was a dream, a fantasy world that although sometimes scary I wanted to be trapped in. I hope one day to leave my inner world for people to navigate as well. Like the many paintings on alchemy of Varo, to turn the mundane into beauty and try to make sense of pain by attempting to turn it into love.

A True Friend

    My brother was in so much pain to see me that frail he could not say a word but the voice of reason knock on the door right then. My good friend Fernando came to my rescue as soon as he saw my SOS text. "Sean asked me for a divorce." That is enough to send a true friend directly into your doorstep. I wanted that divorce as well, it was eminent but the pain I felt that day over his request was as sharp as my body ever felt. It was final, we had reached the point of no return and crossing that last bridge was hard, I admit.

Fernando is a social worker; he works as a counselor for troubled kids and he has been graced with the gift of knowing what to say in moments like this, bringing light into darkness. He had seen the roller-coaster of emotions I had gone through since Sean moved out and knew this last chapter would lead to other more positive ones.

With a loving serene voice that characterizes him he told me, "Is like I tell my kids, imagine you have an open wound and you touch it over and over, it will not heal. Trust and you will watch time make it better fading away." Sitting on my living room couch, while I cried, my brother's love held my hand on one side and Fernando's words gave me hope on the other.

If when we die we see flashbacks of our life, that would be one of them. Not of me crying over Sean, instead of the love my brother and my friend brought to me that day. I knew my family would be there for me always. But some friends become family when they see you at your worst, unable to walk they hold you tight to make sure you cross the bridge safely.

The Lovable Loser

At one point in our lives society expects us to give up on our dreams. When you are a child people ask you what you want to do when you grow up. Most of the time they will smile and even encourage your answers. Parents will even brag of your cleverness while at the neighborhood's barbecue. "He wants to be an astronaut." "Mine says the president!" "How about yours?" "Oh, mine? A famous singer." Pride in our eyes, we want to believe anything is possible for them.

But if we skip like children and land on our forties, well is not so cute anymore. In our twenties we still get encouragement for our dreams. Our thirties are crucial for all the hard work put on our twenties start to pay off and if your twenties were devoted to catching a dream, well that means another decade of the same scenario. That was pretty much Micaela's predicament. Another decade of chasing the dream. With a child and a divorce in some baggage held in her unconscious mind she was still after that phantom goal. Some of her friends were lawyers, architects, business execs and she; well at least she had a good job. But she noticed how talking about her passion was not an interesting subject anymore, people changed the topic of conversation, they politely smiled and she started to be seen as the dreamer or even worse the lovable loser.

When did society frown upon her? Was it in her twenties or her thirties? Or is it now in her early forties that some can't understand the fact that she still chasing it. Society wants to slap her in the face and say, "It's over Mila, you did not make it. Give it up and be like us. Put on your daily mask and go out there. Hide your God given gifts so deep inside no one will see them. Don't worry; we are here to help you bury them." I wonder how society will take her in her fifties and on because Mila is really not giving up. She owes it to her herself and her daughter, she owes it to society for one day some might follow the lead of a lovable loser.

                                     

Related stories: The Witch, the baby, a Queen and her Militia of Termites, Dreams do Come True

The Witch, the Baby, a Queen and her Militia of Termites

    I had fallen into a deep spell. My mind did not want to think anymore and that is what sometimes happens when things don't go according to my plan. It wasn't my fault, when I was a baby, a witch cursed me at the hospital where I was born. Thinking she had been cheated by God she was full of revenge in her heart. Witches are very loving people you know, at least at one point in their lives they were. But having had a lifetime of unfulfilled wishes she one day cursed God for the talents she got. "Why would you give me these talents with the promise of success and then close every door in my way!" She screamed so loud it shattered her soul into pieces. She was angry and it consumed her being. Driven by jealousy all she could think now was to steal dreams from others, her loud screams became a high pitched victory laughter every time she completed an evil scheme. Her new one was to deplete any new soul the chance to succeed in their passion. Why should anyone succeed if she was not granted that wish?

As she walked into the hospital room full of some sleepy and some crying babies she spotted me. I looked at her and smiled. "Boy, the stories I can come up with you!" Thought my baby mind. At that moment she slid her wrinkly hand on my head and said. "Your soul will be intoxicated with fear and deep insecurities every time your dreams encounter rejection to the point of non-action. You will fall asleep into a depression of the soul and mind and no one will be able to save you." A screeching laughter followed, that made all babies cry for hours.

Today, I had fallen into that state of mind again, all I want to do is sleep. While sleeping in bed I was attacked by a militia of termites. They swarmed all over me but I could not hear them in spite of their attempts to bug me. They decided the only way to help me was to turn me into one of them in order to wake me. There, on my bed I became a tiny termite waking up by a sharp command. "Wake up!" The colonel said. "Who are you?" I said. "Stand up! Our queen summons you." I did as told and walked in with them into the guts of my house. I suddenly had a strange appetite for wood but they didn't let me get some, not even a snack. They seemed in such a hurry. I walked into a gorgeous and well carved wooden room, resembling rococo columns from the 18th century. There, in front of me was the queen, sitting on her throne. "Come child" she was sweet and kind. "I hear you've been sleeping quite a bit." She said to me. "Yes, I guess so." I said shrugging my shoulders. "Shouldn't you be writing and creating? We like you better when you are productive." She added. "I can't help it, you can't help to eat wood and I can't help to let insecurities eat my soul, it's a spell." I said. "Oh I see, you are just suffering from a spell" It's nothing." She said laughing. "Oh no, the witch said it could not be broken." I told her. "Of course she did, that's what all witches do, they lie." To what she added, "Wake up and go out there, no matter how you feel, don't stop. Learn from us, we are so tiny and we have already eaten quite a chunk of your house!" She said with excitement. The militia clapped. "Little by little, one day at a time." She added kindly. "Ouch! What is that?" Something bit my arm." I said. "Don't be silly child, you are a termite now and we don't have arms." Said the queen. All the soldiers laughed. Ouch! I hit my arm so hard this time, I woke up surrounded by flying termites. "It’s time to tent the house again." I thought with a sigh. 

Termites got me out of bed that day and the days to follow because they eat wood and I make up stories. No one can stop us from doing what it’s in our nature. 

Dreams do Come True

I want to act, act, act. All I want to do is act. I dreamed of my acceptance speech one day up in the podium. Ask and you shall receive right? I prayed and asked for it many times. I wonder when my miracle would materialize. Since little I saw stories in my head and I was always the main character in them. Today my fantasy was interrupted by a voice that said, "Ms. Olivieri," it was the math teacher. "Come to the board she commanded." "Oh no, why me? If only I could be invisible during math class, how much fun would that be!" In front of the board, chalk in hand I froze. The teacher scolded me while the class laughed. "Do you ever pay attention? What do you do in class?" To what I replied excited. "I think of stories Ms. Santos, far more interesting than your lessons." She looked at me straight in the eye. "Go to the office" she said. To what I replied with sincerity. "No, I mean it; I'm not trying to be mean. Want to hear one? You will love the one I am"...she interrupted abruptly, "To the office, now!"

Going to the office again for the same reason, daydreaming. "My mind won't stop," I told mother superior. "If anything we should talk to God right now. He made me like this you know, is not my fault. He does show up for chats often, let me call him." I said. That day my mom received a warning note from school. But I wasn’t lying; it was true! God comes to me for chats and sometimes a scolding. I know I'm in big trouble when he shows up with Jesus and his mom. A bit like an intervention from above. 

One night not too long ago I was intensely praying the rosary, almost in trance and there they were. "Oh, hi guys I said, it's been a while." "Not really" God said, "you talk to us every day, every minute almost." "Not every minute" I said. "Between the three of us yeah, kind of, that's including the angels and archangels" he added. "Oh cool" I said, "so you are all in contact?" "Yeah, we are all part of the same network" Jesus said. "Honey," said Mary, "we know you want to be a successful actress, we are working on it, I promise." "Really? I knew it! How exciting!" I screamed. "When?" I added. "All in time child," said God. "We can't give exact dates you know, there is free will all around, it's complicated," he said while he shook his head. "The day you get an exact date is coming from down there said Jesus," pointing to the floor. "Oh, ok, I get it, I get it" I said with a smile. "Listen take it like this, imagine someone planning a surprise party for you. It wouldn't be fun if you knew when right?" God said. "Well I guess," I said. "So just wait with faith, didn't you go to catholic school, they never thought you about faith?" Mary asked. "I don't remember school much" I said, "It's a bit of a blur." They smiled and turned around as if they were leaving. "But wait" I said. "Actually I was praying the rosary because I have another request. Oh, but before, thanks for Amber Rose, my family, friends, my job, etc...Ok, are you guys ready? I want to be a writer also." "What? Micaela! Common" they said in unison, "you have us working full time on this case" said Jesus. "We are going to have to get reinforcement. I will call the Holy Spirit now, I'll make an appointment" said Mary. "Guys, settle down" said God, "is not a big deal, we will just have to pull a J-Lo, that's all." "Of course!" They all said and chuckled. 

"Relax Mila; we are pulling your leg!" "Ohhh, that was funny," I said laughing. "I know said Jesus; we are practicing our stand-up routine for the yearly talent show. Whitney, Sinatra and White are judging. Anyway, it’s us, you know we can do pretty much anything you wish as long as it is infused with love" said Jesus. "Just keep on praying, with faith," he winked. "Your dream is on the UPS truck. No, don’t ask for the tracking number"said Mary. To what God added, "but while you wait just have fun with life, enjoy and love, love love!"

                                           

Related stories: The Witch, the baby, a Queen and her Militia of Termites, The Lovable Loser

Flicking Channels

I didn't mean to hurt Drew, I really end up hurting myself. I preached about letting go and yet when time came to do it myself I couldn't seem to shake off the past. I wanted to, so much but I just couldn't. Even after the mourning period is over one seems to hold on to the scars. Over the years they fade away but while visible there are constant reminders of what could happen.

I felt as if Drew was going to leave right from the start. Even though he used to tell me "I'm not your ex," my ego was certain he would eventually leave me. I treated him poorly at times I admit. It was as if I was watching the main character of a movie mess up without being able to do anything but change the channel and that's exactly what I did. I changed it abruptly at only 15 minutes from the start. I could not handle it. This time I really liked someone and it was too much to take.

I've been single for almost a year now and for the most part I've been alone but I did watched some good guys come and I let them go without getting attached. This time it was different, I got attached but I noticed it too late. He had been hurt as much as I was, forgiveness was not going to come easy from him. For the first time I had regret, the same kind my therapist Dr. Steinberg warned me about. I decided to give him time. People always say that if it is meant to be then it will. It sounded like a good plan except that is a mission with someone with little patience like me. How to turn regret into possibility? I was about to find out...

Related story: Back to Second Grade

Back to Second Grade

Drew lifted my spirits and I liked that about him. I've never been with someone that made me laugh so much, all the time. He kept his charming silliness most of us put aside when the sarcasm of teenage years grabs us by the mood, dropping it when experiences of adulthood scars us. Not that he lacked those experiences but he kept that childish charm alive inviting the little girl in me out to play every time. 

I was with my boss at an event hosted by the richest socialites who had fallen in love with the clothing line I worked for. My boss was wishing a partnership with them and we had clothed our future to be partner and her daughter with two of our current collection cocktail dresses not available for sale yet. The view of downtown high rises on one side and water on the other was stunning. The catered food was spectacular as well and at one point I made more eye contact with the server than with any of the guests. I had emptied my drawer of clever and polite chit chat with strangers and I was ready to go home. Except my boss was very much a people magnet, she had the gift of telling fantastical stories that were a crowd pleaser. I would have gladly been part of her audience once more; her stories about her homeland always changed a bit and for the better. But something about the food's taste was so familiar. And there he was, the server again, he looked at me and knew he had to come my way or I would hound him. By the time he would get to me though there was not much food left so he shrugged his shoulders knowing at that point I had only two interests food and champagne. The waiter looked at me and with a tilt of his head I knew I had to follow him. I did, straight to the kitchen where the loot was. I figured he was going to show me where the goodies were before they end up belly up inside the hungry socialites.

As I entered the kitchen I was greeted by Drew, the chef. He handed me an apron without even looking at me. "I've been eying you, if you're going to eat that much I better put you to work. Here, you will need it or you will stain your dress." He said this with a charming smile while helping me with the apron. "Will I get any champagne?" I said. "Of course!" He uttered with a chuckle, "its part of our contract." "Good, and can I also have a bite?" I said reaching to a tiny piece of food. "No," he said slapping me on the wrist. "You've been gobbling it. Look, he said as he placed one bite in my mouth. Taste it, don't swallow it," he smiled. I did, and the flavors took my whole senses hostage. How did I end up inside the most elite kitchen I've ever seen, helping the most handsome chef in town, laughing away with a complete stranger I felt I knew forever.

The chef was right; champagne was part of his contract. From that day on Drew would come over to my house with a bottle of my favorite champagne and cook the most amazing meals for us while I accompanied him in the kitchen. Scottish father and a Dominican mother, the flavors of his heritage bloomed into his cooking, Watching art come from his hands and into our palates was a gift. My kitchen had never been graced with such love. He laughed at my silly jokes and I loved his second grade flirting style. With him the silliness never stopped. "Stop it! he used to say while I tried to grab food before it was ready. I'm going to have to pull your hair," he cried. To what I replied laughing, "is that how you got your girlfriends in the second grade?" "Still works right?" He laughed. "Yes, so I'm going to have to pull your nose as punishment," I said while sipping on champagne. But it did worked, I'm not ashamed to admit it. It did from the second we met because two second graders in a grown up party will always end up playing together.

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A Doll's House

Larry, sweet, perfect and successful somehow found me more attractive and clever than I even believed myself. A talented photographer that got lost in the world of fashion and drugs during the eighties and had found a way to build his life back once more. His battle scars: two divorces and two grown kids that barely knew him and highly resented him at one point of their lives. He had paid the ultimate price what led him to become clean and sober long enough to have seen the love of his kids blossoming again for him. 

Larry would show up at my door step for every date we had with a big bouquet of flowers. A big contrast to his cool urban look. He had lived fast and was not mesmerized by the flashing party lights anymore. He wanted to settle, he liked me and made no effort to hide it. It was all I ever wanted and asked for in love. Yet I felt like running to the hills as fast as my mind could take me. Dr. Steinberg says patterns like this are formed in childhood. I don't recall ever telling my parents after getting a present I had asked for months on my Christmas list, "mom, dad, thanks but no thanks. Even though this is the Barbie three story condo I've been writing on my wish list for years, after careful consideration I have decided I can't have it. I really want it but I am not ready for it. Please guard it safely until further notice from me."

Come to think of it I never got that Barbie three story condo. My dear friend from childhood Milly got it and I would always go to her house and look at it after we played. Sure I got a real beautiful mansion with lights that would beam from within, I'm not complaining but it was not Barbie's condo. Far away from memory land I let Larry go and I hope I don't regret it one day. Maybe the girl inside me should be happy with the wonderful doll house I got for Christmas instead of dreaming with the Barbie three story condo inside Milly's bedroom.

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My Muse

Why do girlfriend ask silly questions? "Baby if we ever broke up would you like to be my friend?" "No," Mathew said providing no extra explanation with his typical sharpness. To what I replied appalled, "Why? I would like to be your friend, why won't you?" I was really shocked at the clarity of mind he had on the subject matter. "I have no interest in keeping friends with an ex," he added. His worlds sounded so final. As if I asked a man if he would share the last cup of water with me instead of with his thirsty child while stranded at the dessert. That night I tried picturing what my life be without him. I had gone through a divorce once and as hard as that breakup was I had little in common with my ex husband Sean. He is not an art lover like Mathew and even though Sean went with me to many art related events there was none of the passionate feedback Mathew and I shared for art, music or even food. I would sure miss him I thought, emotionally of course but I would also miss the deep friendship and companionship we shared. 

Fast forward time and after breaking the space barrier I found myself holding a bunch of dresses for a photo shoot of the designer I work for on the streets of a busy art district in Miami. There, in broad daylight I saw Mathew like an apparition, not alone but hand in hand with a girl, prancing inside an art gallery. I recognized myself in her, that was me long ago I thought. Mathew and I were not in contact. He meant what he said and there was deep silence after our break. Part of me wanted to walk in the gallery and casually bump into them for a quick friendly chat. But the part that glued my feet to the sidewalk with a stupefied look on my face left me static. Time seemed to have stopped except there was a faint mosquito buzz on my ear breaking the illusion of my split heart. "Excuse me are you lost?" He said. "Go away and shut up." I mumbled. "Pardon me?" He asked, while blowing smoke from his mouth. I turned around in slow motion . My face was distortedly idiotic. Even more so when I realized my mosquito was a perfectly cute guy. Interesting man I rather say, with salt and pepper hair and the kind of deep wrinkles that unfairly look better on a man than a woman.

He introduced himself as Larry, the fashion shoot photographer. "You look like you need help with those dresses" he added with a cute smirk on his face. He was the kind of guy that seems like he doesn't care but his look is very much well studied. "I'm sorry" I said while looking at his adorable smile. "Yes, if you could help me that would be great. Silly me I thought this was the space." I said pointing at the gallery and hoping for my ex and his cute flame to stay inside. "No, he said but you are close, it's right next door. I just came out for a smoke. My last one." he said while stepping on it proudly. "Really?" I laughed while he held the dresses for me. "I've decided right now. You've inspired me, like my muse." He said, "Wow!" I flirted, "I've never been anyone's muse." "Well I've never quitted cold turkey so it's the first for both of us," he said while smiling. Walking into the space I though how hard it is to find the shadow of a memory happily walking by but in that bittersweet moment that smile made the task a lot less dreadful and one can get used to that.

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Like a Teddy Bear

Dry witted Sean is affectionate and sweet? What?! That is what I thought after my daughter Amber said to me that her dad and girlfriend are the most loving couple she's ever seen. A robotic style smile came out from me. Sean and I had been divorced for years by now. I genuinely love him like family and I can honestly say I want his entire happiness to come to fruition. His girlfriend seems nice and level headed unlike the plethora of girlfriends that paraded over the years. I was happy for him but that remark hit home a bit. Affection was one of the things I almost begged from my ex during the years together. He was never able to do it much. He had other positive traits. He was witty, ambitious, he showered me with gifts and we traveled the world before Amber was born. He was also hysterically sarcastic and very charismatic. Nothing seemed impossible in his mind and I felt safe with him, protected and loved. I was not crazy passionate with him though, I discovered that kind of feeling after my divorce but one can love deeply without it. 

Sean was my first boyfriend; I married him before I could legally drink at my own wedding. I was very much in love with him and I constantly fought for us to grow emotionally closer. To hear that he was practically a teddy bear with his girlfriend was unexpected. All this time I thought it was him who didn't want to open up but maybe in all our years together I didn't inspire him to do so. It was time to ask my therapist. No, not Dr. Steinberg but my hair dresser, who knows me better than most people. If I ever go missing please refer to him. He would know exactly where to find me. He once told me, "When you find a person that complains about their partner lack of love you usually have to look at the one making the claim." He was wise, It's a basic principle of spirituality. It takes two to tango, you get what you give. I was left without a husband years ago and maybe it was time to revisit what happened again. Healing had flourished regarding my divorce and I didn't feel like a victim anymore. Now I wasn't afraid to take an honest look within and find out what kind of love I held away from him. Because if I kept it in then it was still inside of me waiting for me to find, unlock and release.

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A True Smile

When my ex-boyfriend left I felt like a part of me was gone. I had convinced myself that I had also fallen out of love with him and like a teenager after a breakup I wrote him an email explaining all the reasons why I had fallen out of love with him first. Ha! I won that one right? Or maybe not since the moths to follow were a daily reminder of the heart I was holding on my right hand at all times. When I went to the groceries, the bank, work, you get the picture. Nobody noticed, I was graced by birth with a big smile and I planted on my face when I meant it but very often when I didn't. It got me through the day sometimes and it fooled some but not the most acute souls. Those saw my right hand and heart and noticed it wasn't the latest accessory of the season. Particularly kids I think. Ever had a toddler stare at you at a bank line? Oh, they see truth everywhere, they just can't verbalize it and grown-ups are too busy to pay attention. 

I was sporting my bleeding heart in a busy bank with a little kid next to me that could not take his eyes off it. He saw the heart and the dripping blood and he was not intimidated by it, probably because he was a munchkin warrior disguised like a cute little kid. He just kept on staring, the mother was oblivious so I decided to give him and evil eye to scare him away. He smiled; he was not fooling me, I turned my head to the other side and abruptly turn to him again, this time releasing my wrath. He replied with a sweet giggle. What a strange kid, I thought, he was not afraid of me? I looked away once more and turned to him fast, this time thinking, get ready for war little munchkin from faraway lands! He started to laugh out loud. 

I guess he noticed that even though I was not smiling my mouth was crooked. I do that when I'm holding in true smiles because my most sincere smile is so big I sometimes hold it afraid it will take over my entire face. With sealed lips I tried to keep it in, wiggling lips from side to side, up and down. Funny faces that only made my little contender laugh even harder pulling a true smile and laughter from my heart...My heart? I thought it was on my right hand, it was gone. Beating inside of me again. Heart was glad to be back home and all it took was a little love. Even if it came from a tiny munchkin from a faraway land.

With Personality

I remember the first night I spent with my baby at the hospital. She was a tiny beautiful little rose. Every two hours she would wake up for food and like all babies she would cry bloody murder for it, so the nurse at the hospital left me a pacifier for her. Early that evening after feeding, burping and changing her diaper, she was still crying so I tried the pacifier for the first time to get some shuteye myself. I put the rubber apparatus in her mouth and she spited it out yelling so loud my eyes opened wide. “Wow!” I thought, “some personality you have!”

Later on around 3:30 am the nurse came back to check on us. My little rose was crying her lungs out and I looked like I went to war and back. Seeing I needed some rest the nurse asked, “ have you tried the pacifier yet?” “Oh no” I said, “she hates it!” The nurse gave me a condescending look and said, “you just don’t know how to do it.” “Oh well “ I thought with a grin on my face, “suit yourself”. The nurse placed the pacifier in my baby’s mouth pushing on it slightly; it stayed in for about half a second. I saw it jump up from Amber’s little mouth almost hitting the nurse’s nose. Baby Amber screamed so loud she reached high notes Sarah Brightman wishes she could. The whole hospital shook in fear in one long loud scream. The nurse looked at her and then looked at me as if she had just seen Rosemarie’s baby and said, “quite a temper she has!” To what I replied, “I prefer calling it a personality.” The nurse left quickly after that, taking the pacifier with her. With dark circles around my eyes, I smiled; I already admired my little one for she had done at day one what I still had a hard time doing at 31 years old.

                                            

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My Mom

Staring down at earth a little light wondered if she should stay up high where angels roam, where there is no time, no space, where love rules and hatred is but a forgotten memory.

All of a sudden it struck her. Earth was the only place she knew where music intoxicates your soul and a wounded heart can fall in and out love again and again. Where pleasure and pain are felt in the flesh and good choices and no so good ones make us wiser. Where expressing talents takes us up high where our old friends the angels still roam.

There is no other plane where the game consists in finding the hidden God within us.

Where the rules are to forget who we are and the winners are the ones who dare remember.

Love was calling again...

As she plunged into her mother’s womb the little light said, “I am game!”

And a mother was born.

On the Kitchen Table

My family calls me Drew ever since my younger brother could not pronounce my name when little. I remember I used to say Dario many times as fast as I could as a game to help him pronounce it and he picked up Drew. I like my nick name, it’s catchy. My boss hated it, "Dario is more important" he used to tell me. "A chef named Drew deserves no admiration but Dario, well that commands respect. Take my name for example Ramon, that's a powerful name. My wife calls me Rami" he said to me one day while I was chopping an onion just the way he thought me to; "but you think I let anyone call me that? No! Sr. Ramon, so they never forget who is in charge here." 

Sr. Ramon was the head chef at the restaurant I worked at. Mother had lost her job in the US and had stopped sending money leaving grandma struggling to make ends meet for us. The job didn't pay much but I was learning all I needed to become a chef and at the end of the day I could always bring back home some food from the restaurant. No matter how late I arrived at night grandma would always wait to sit with me while I had dinner. "Sorry mijito" she said one day while sitting at the same kitchen table I watched her cook so many times. "You should be at the university now, studying and making a future for yourself. If I were any younger"...I stopped her right there and said, "you have given me plenty and I am getting an education. I will be a chef one day, the best one grandma and I owe it all to you, you'll be proud of me." Grandma never got to see me run my restaurant in the city, she was long gone by then but there is not one day while I cook that I don't feel her presence right next to me.

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Why can't I be you

    After licking my wounds for quite some time I was ready to date! And so there he showed up. Tall and handsome, divorced like I was, two kids around Amber's age, in good shape, physically and mentally, at least that's what it looked like. He fitted all the categories of a good date for a fashionable divorcee like myself. We had gone on a couple of dates by now and this time he surprised me with an intimate concert of a South American performer. The space was small and cozy and we were having a nice chat while waiting for the performance to start. He was a bit shy and somehow every date seemed like the first one at the beginning. After a few silly jokes on my part to break the ice he always seemed to be more at ease. We had not kissed yet and I was curious a bit. Since the venue was a restaurant we had ordered a couple of appetizers and a bottle of wine. The wine arrived and after a couple of glasses we were both giggling a bit more. It felt good, the wine, soft lighting, nice soft background music and suddenly after another of my silly jokes that screamed for just kiss me now, he leaned towards me. And there I was shocked, not at his new found courage but at the background music I heard. The chick band was playing. That's how I used to call them anyway, till today I can't remember the band's name but they were unmistakable. It was one of my ex-boyfriend’s favorite bands and to me they sounded like elevator music. A band of girls playing very well known songs and mellowing them down. I particularly disliked what they did to my favorite The Cure song, Why can't I be you. Mathew played it often and like the good little girlfriend I was I pretended to like them as much as he did. Well somehow the band sneaked in the middle of my almost kiss and with them memories snuck between my date and "the lean". What could have been a sweet first kiss was abruptly interrupted. My ex was sitting right between us and it was not my date's fault, it wasn't Mathew's fault either or the girl's band. I put him there, in a blink of a music flashback. I could have stopped the wave of memories that rushed in I guess but I didn't. Sometimes you think you are ready and life slaps you in the face with a mellow remake of your favorite The Cure song.

The Doctor is in

    Once my therapist asked me, "Do you know what is the biggest sorrow I have to help my patients overcome when they see me in here? I shook my head while I blew my nose for the tenth time. "Regret," said Dr. Steinberg as he slowly took his glasses off in his usual calm manner. Dr. Steinberg became my hero; after all he saved me from prolonged unnecessary grief and not in the most obvious way.  

    I think I believe in different dimensions now and somewhere in dimension city at the corner of misery and oh, why did I stay with him, I would still be married with my ex-Sean. Back then Dr. Steinberg was our couple therapist, our last attempt to fix our messy marriage in name of our daughter and all the years together. 

    Dr. Steinberg had been seeing both of us separately at his office at Mt. Sinai Hospital for months. He was the closest to a spiritual therapist I could think of, with all the impressive needed academic degrees of course. At this point and even though I was still so hurt I was genuinely trying so hard to mend things with Sean. Dr. Steinberg and I were discussing the reasons why I was so determined to fix my relationship with him, aside from the obvious reason, our daughter Amber. I was pulling reasons out of my brain and watched them come out of my mouth as fast as I could make them up. Like a train trying to stay in its rails, shaking and tumbling, almost falling out of its base. 

    And before that train crumbled down a tall mountain, Dr. Steinberg stopped me abruptly with a statement I will never forget. “He is still seeing her,” he said. I froze, my mind froze, my brain froze, my bones froze, my heart stopped. “What?” I replied, my mind was going in all directions. And silence followed, I couldn't process it, it took me the whole ride home to understand what he said. 

    And then I thought of him, my therapist, was he so disgusted with my then husband that he could not bare see me making the huge mistake of staying with him? Not to mention breaking his patient confidentiality rule with Sean. I thought immediately about the risk he was taking by telling me this. But he did, thus saving me from the most feared feeling to overcome, regret. 

    Dr. Steinberg saw me as his daughter I guess, perhaps from another dimension. And one does anything for their kids, even trying to save a doomed marriage, even breaking the rules. That is just what we do.

                                              

A New Beating Heart

    Little did I know a yoga pose would give me a new beginning. The restorative yoga class delivered what the instructor promised. Way passed the middle of the class, after two of the most challenging long poses and stretches a curious break through occurred; I released something very much stuck within. During the long held pose as it is practiced in restorative yoga I felt a wave of immense joy inundating me. I was belly up with the cloth boulder under my spine while happiness kept on increasing from within, like a wave of unexplainable excitement without measure. 

    The lights in the studio were dim and my view was a huge window overlooking downtown high rises with a starry dark sky above it. The instructor’s voice kept on buzzing lower and lower, escaping my ears as my mat and I floated away. We reached the tall buildings and zoomed straight to the moon, as I turned around I could see earth far and away. My mat and I had done our duty well, we had spread some love as we took off and that same love was spreading fast until we could see earth pulsating in a pink bubble of hope. I smiled and looked away to the farthest of stars, that is where I want to go, I thought. Just then a voice told me “then release, not with grief, not with anger, let the memories come to you with joy, don’t be afraid.” 

    

A montage of my ex Mathew and I flashed through my mind. Like the many movies we had watched together lying on my living room couch. Except this time I was the main character and I smiled. I lived every single experience again in a wonderful long breath. I smiled, I laughed and I loved. As I did this my mat and I reached the very last star just as I hoped. I got far, it was high and earth was just a tiny pink bubble floating away. 

    As I flew back I started gathering speed, I saw the pink bubble growing bigger. Soon I noticed some other stars were following my lead, love is so contagious they could not help but plunge with me bursting into shooting stars. There was only room for one back on earth though and we all knew it, I sped up with more love, laughter, and joy. They laughed like me with love but I still held the lead. Earth was getting closer and I knew I would be the very first one. As I plunged into earth a new me was born or at least the seed inside of me was planted, It was up to me now to grow my new being and my new beating heart that now was basking in forgiveness like never before.