Everything In A Different Way

When I see the moon; I think of the millions of people looking up at it..

I stop and think that maybe your looking up at it just like me.

I see it as a way that just for one moment we are one.

For one moment we are connected.

For one moment I am strong.

But then again,

I see everything in a different way.

These eyes that are watching me are like a child's.

A child who hasn't yet learned that it is rude to stare at someone; tears streaming.

But that's just what everyone wants.

They sneak side glances at you.

Everyone is just waiting for me to slip up; to make a mistake.

And that's fine with me.

Because I have come to terms with this world.

And all I can hope to accomplish on this Earth is to try and love.

Even though that can be very hard.

...Maybe I see everything in a different way.

Sometimes I wonder if certain things hadn't happened to me..

Would I be different?

What if...

What I hadn't been there that night?

What if they hadn't hurt me?

What if I still had some innocence..

While being directed for a theater production, 

A girl had to cuddle and flirt with someone,

She was uncomfortable.

The director said,

"..It's OK. I love that your uncomfortable. That shows such beautiful innocence."

She blushed and looked away shyly; a bit embarrassed.

I sat and pondered this..

What would I have done?

I was jealous of that girl in that moment..

I would have know what to do.

Oh,

Such beautiful, amazing, pure, sweet...

Innocence.

People can see the same situation yet,

...See everything in a different way.

If Only I Could Make You Understand

Sometimes, there are more important things in the world than yourself.

Not always; just sometimes.

I have been reminded of this today.

I'm sure I have learned this lesson before.

 I am sure I will continue to try and understand this concept for the rest of my days.

There was a thunderstorm last night.

I was awoken at 3:30AM by:

A rip in the sky,

 A tear in the world,

A break in the peace,

An interlude in the silence of night.

...Whatever you would like to call it.

Lightening.

 Now as you can only imagine, I was kinda terrified.

Was I having an panic attack?

Was it an earthquake?

Was the roof collapsing?

These were my thoughts.

However, before I had time for a full on freakout,

I hear a whine. 

And at that moment, a blanket of white covered my vision; as if I had been slapped in the face.

I saw: two leathery ears drooping and two enlarged brown puppy eyes.

It was my dog and he was mortified.

I'm his mom.

And what do moms do?

They protect.

Moms take away the bad.

Moms make everything less scary.

Because when you are young and innocent, there are many things you do not understand.

You don't understand why that little boy in your class doesn't like you.

You don't understand why you get yelled at for talking in the library.
You don't understand many, many things.
You won't understand why the stars are shinning or why the wind blows.
And all a mom can hope is that you grow up to be happy.

I was scared by the thunder and lightening too.
I'm not going to lie.
But my baby boy was scared.
And he needed me.
Someone actually needs me.
That's a nice thought.
Someone is counting on me.

I closed my shades.
I covered his eyes.
I blasted my radio.
And held his tiny body close.

What hurt me the most is I couldn't tell him why..
I couldn't convince him that everything was going to be alright..
People tell me everyday,
"Keep my head up."
"Things get better."
"It will be OK."
Do I choose to believe them?

That's right.
I choose.

I'm just going to pretend everything is my call..
Like everything that has happened to me was my fault.
My mistake.

What could I say to my poor puppy?
All I could do was hold him while he cried...
Listen as he whined...
And just keep whispering,
"If only I could make you understand..."

Fog Over The Brookelyn Bridge

There is fog over the Brookelyn Bridge tonight.

Listen and you can hear her breathing.

She's afraid to see the smoke clearing.

What realities of the day are nearing?

There is a fog over my Brookelyn Bridge tonight.

She trembles in terror.

Earthquakes shake her to her structure but she will never fall.

She just goes with how the Earth moves her.  

I know my Brookelyn is strong.

But I'm afraid she'll lose it all.

There is a fog over Brookelyn Bridge tonight.

She's scared, I am too.

Her heart has the impression of many peoples' footprints.

Hold on to the railings, don't slip into the deep.

Break threw the fog tonight,

Baby girl I need to know your OK, before I go to sleep..

You can't leave me in the world alone.

Brookelyn Bridge, only you will understand.

The sun and the moon, streaked on our faces.

It is beautiful how our cheekbones touch, like an Indian painting of the sky.

We fit together, though we look very different.

Were not that different at all.

There is a fog over the Brookelyn Bridge tonight,

I know I have spelled it differently.

That is what I call my world.

My Brookelyn Bridge I will love forever.

And I as I close my eyes I can see her face; glowing like the lights strung in the night sky,

Just as if I am staring about at the bridge just beyond my window.

There is a fog over my Brookelyn Bridge tonight,

I'm just waiting for you to come back home to the light.

The Moments That Matter Most...

I went to two different churches.

One last night; and one this morning.

There are some things I do not understand.

In the first church,

People sang, sat, prayed, and 

..Just listened.

Imagine that.

People laughed at his jokes and the pastor did not wear robes and drapery of white and gold.

He just wore a suit and tie, he was very nice.
I did not understand why congregation laughed when they did.
Old people jokes. Ugh.

The message was simple but I felt like it ran on and on.

People applauded and went out on their way.

Who knows who was sitting in the pews?

A murderer?

A teen mom?

A transvestite? 

A person in need of a savior.

But it didn't matter, people went out to claim their kids..

They were giving away free corn dogs. 
People felt changed.
Some didn't.
Some only come for Easter and Christmas, as if you would be getting a "Godly" detention for missing.
The pastor even said, "I might as well just say, 'See ya at Christmas.'"
I thought it was funny.

The service was ending just as the sun was rising in Jerusalem. 


The second service I attended was Easter morning in America.
It was just me and my sister.
We had to stand in the back because there wasn't enough room.
Some people wore stilettos that I thought would break ankles.
I was relieved to see that no one was wearing a Hawaiian shirt with khakis.

They sang in the beginning, words that I recognized from the other church,
It was pretty but in a different arrangement.
They did things I did not understand.

They crossed themselves with Holy water.
They flicked a can with smoke in the air.
I think..
I was baptized, given communion, and blessed all in one service.
Phew.
They talked quickly, and recited words I did not know..

I went to Catholic church when I was little.
I went into autopilot.
I did the best I could.
I sang the chorus to songs.
People bowed before entering the pews.
I remember doing that.

People walked out reverently.
Like they had a purpose.
Some simply walked out after communion; like they had payed enough tribute to the Lord.
Others looked like they were just phasing out of autopilot mode like myself,
Exhausted from trying to keep up with the scriptures being recited.  

Me and my sister walked out, and realized we had two hours to kill before heading over to my grandma's.
We went to the McDonalds behind the church.
We bought dollar drinks. The total was $2.18.
She began to freak out saying, "Find 18 cents! I do not want to have to break another dollar!"

We searched about two minutes right in front of the window man.
I threw my chair back in defeat, and kicked my shoes lined with rips and tears off.
My sister somberly handed me my Dr. Pepper; placed her lemonade in her cup holder and said,
 "...We just killed a dollar."
I had to laugh.
Who thinks up these tax amounts? So tedious. 

We drove on through town; singing our hearts out to the radio.
I let my hair down.
I swung both my feet out the window, and admired my toenails that were sloppily painted.
I mentally noted this had to be repainted later.
I let my dress ride up to my thighs and I didn't care.
I let myself go.
I had an amazing sister beside me and a Dr. Pepper in hand.
The universe was with me for once. Jesus was with me.
And I knew...
I knew at that moment, everything was going to be alright.

It was the bubbly feeling of happiness that you always hope to recreate.
It was the radio playing all the perfect songs.
It was me and my sister laughing together; a harmony between us.
It was the feeling of the sun on my tanned legs.
It was my perfect spring morning.

It was one of the moments that matter most..

No One Worth an "I Love You."

I don't go to bed with out saying, "I love you" to my family.

I try not to leave the house without saying it to all, even if I am in a bad mood.

But tonight I observed that no one was worth and "I love you." 

People are yelling at this moment.

I sit and type; as if this is the only thing keeping me from a panic attack.

I stared at the mirror for awhile.

All I can hope is that tomorrow people will like what they see,

..That I will like what I see.

I find that I'm not even worth loving me.

Bummer.

All I can hope is that someone thinks that girl I created in the mirror is pretty..

Then maybe I will feel it too.

Tonight I find that, no one is worth an "I love you."

But, I realize that somewhere out there,

No one is being told that they are loved.

And that makes me sad.

Because I can't understand why; I can only speculate. 

But since you are reading, I think I will tell you..

I love you.

Because everyone needs to know.

 

Somewhere in the World Out There

I can't make out the words on the necklace in my hand.

It is half of someone's heart.

"Best friends forever."

But it doesn't say that.

The best guess I can make is it says something in Spanish.

"Mejores amigos para siempre."

But that's too long for a necklace.  

Somewhere in the world out there,

Someone is missing a best friend.

I found this necklace in a thrift store.

It make me wonder.

What happened between these friends?

Were they close?

Was it two sisters? 

Did someone die?

Were they lovers; unaccepted by society?

The necklace has a stick figure girl on it,

And a word is cut off in the break. 

I have the left side.

Somewhere in the world out there,

Someone is missing a best friend.

I would wear it to school, and people would ask,

"Who has the other half?"

I would just walk away; cliff hanger.

Because that was a question I couldn't answer..

Sometimes I would say,

"I don't know, I don't have a best friend. I got it at a thrift store."

Whenever someone asked, it made me sad.

Because I know I don't have a best friend,

And maybe I never will.

But somewhere out there, maybe...

Just maybe..

We will find each other..

That has always been a dream of mine.

Maybe my other half has been searching for me all along. 

Isn't that what a best friend is?

Your other half, right?

Like I said, I wouldn't know.

This necklace makes me sad and hopeful all at once.

Maybe the person who has the other half doesn't even know the necklace had been tossed into a plastic bag; awaiting pick up by the Goodwill. 

Maybe one day I will find them.

We will hug, or stand awkwardly; 

Gazing just above each others collar bones; at the necklaces.

Maybe she will yell. 

What right do I have to her memories?

All I did was pay 76 cents.

Or maybe, I will meet a stranger.

And maybe this person will have been looking for me all along too..

Trying to find out the story behind the half they posses. 

But we won't know the secrets..

But maybe...

We could write our own story together.

As if the universe found the only two people in the whole world who were lost without:

 A companion.

A wing woman.

A comedian.

A shoulder to cry on.

 ...All those things that make up; a best friend. 

Because somewhere in the world out there,

Someone is missing a best friend.

Just. Like Me. 

Percila

Percila.

Her name was Percila.

Pure. Sweet. Inquisitive.

Woman with the eight o’clock bed time.

Tomorrow you will awake, and probably not even remember anything about me,

I have the feeling I will always remember you. For quite some time at least.

You are going to wake up early,

With the high likely hood of having a seemingly average day from the perspective of the rest of the world.

You said you were going to visit you dad in LA.

You showed me the two bandages on your finger tips, and asked me if I had ever cut myself.

I stood taken aback by this question.

I glace down to see if my sleeves had rolled up, or my scars were particularly darkened due to cold as they sometimes do.

They were not.

 What did she mean?

I told you sometimes, but only on sharp objects, and incase you didn’t know, accidentally.

Of course, you didn’t know.

You live in a home where people take care of you.

And when you cut your rough, yet delicate fingers, people will come to your aid.

Do you feel loved?

I hope you do.

I hope they treat you right.

When you first approached me I thought you worked there, trying to sell some make-up.

But then I saw your eyes, and noticed the way you talked.

Crisp yet dazed. You seemed to have these questions in your mind down to a tee, and the things you were saying was well put together as if you had been practicing in front of a mirror.

I asked why you were going to LA.

You said you didn’t want to talk about the sad things, but you had written your dad a card saying that he was in your prayers and God is watching over him.

I smiled, “Yes. At least she knows God. She must know love.” That is why you said you were going to go to bed early at eight or nine tonight. You should just be starting to go to bed right now if I’m not mistaken…

I’d love to capture that conversation.

I’d like to play it over and over in my mind,

Remember my thoughts and her sweet innocence.

You said I was very pretty.

You asked where my kids were.

I told you I didn’t have kids, and that my mom was somewhere.

I said thank you and I told you that you were pretty.

You said “you’re welcome.”

When I tried to get you to realize that I was saying you were pretty you simply said that I was “Welcome” again.

I met you at Target,

In the make-up isle.

You stood between me and the colorful lipsticks and glosses.

Best 20 minute conversation I had had in awhile.

I believe that maybe God sent you to talk to me.

I being nervous and uncomfortable when you started talking to me,

I wasn’t sure how you would react to things I said.

You asked what school I went too.

I said, “Orcutt”

You asked what time I would be going to bed tonight.

“Um, ten.” I said trying to think what would be a reasonable, yet appropriately late time for a teenager who went to “Orcutt” to go to bed at.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I said Orcutt.

I doubt it mattered to you.

By the end of our conversation I had become relaxed and comfortable with her presence. I had narrowed it down to two choices of Revlon lipstick.

One, a light shimmery pink.

The other, darker with no shine.

I turned to you, turned and turned on my perky voice.

My perky voice is the voice I use while talking to my mom’s kindergarteners or

The kids that we taught each summer in the special education summer school classes.

In those classes our goal for the whole summer was to get through alphabet collection of books that you color.

Start with A on the first day,

B the second,

And so on.

We usual don’t make it passed T in a good summer.

My mother would pray that we wouldn’t have a seriously disabled kid or a “runner.”

Runners are kids who will suddenly bolt away out of the classroom and constantly need an aid to stay with them.

I secretly enjoyed the chaos.

Well, our conversation was ending.

I held the two out in front of her and asked,

“Which one do you like?”

You stopped, inquisitively looked at me,

Gazed intently at the two and pointed to the brighter shinier one.

Wouldn’t have been my pick.

But, I trusted you.

Your mom had been ignoring our conversation all together.

She was in the isle with us the whole time and I would glace at her hoping she would take her daughter back.

I thought she was a schizo, taking to her self comparing lip gloss like I had.

She looked at me, shook her head and somberly said, “I don’t know if she knows what she’s doing.”

But I smiled, trusting you. You sounded so earnest. Why would you have reason to guide me astray?

I smiled, turning to walk away and said, “Oh no, I like it. Thanks Percila, bye!”

You wouldn’t have been like other girls,

Other girls would not have had my best intentions in mind.

I think that they would have picked the one that made me look worse,

And bought the other to wear, making themselves appear better.

That is just my personal take on this though.

I know you knew what you were saying.

As I continued through the store,

I ran into you in a different isle.

I looked at you as I passed, but you said nothing.

You were so wrapped up in conversation with someone else while your mom looked at medicines.

I over heard you taking to your next unsuspecting friend about your dad in LA, and how you were going to visit.

 I smiled.

And I looked at the lipstick in my hand you had picked yourself.

Revlon.

Number 430.

Pearl.

Softsilver Rose.

I decided right then to rename it.

A much more beautiful name,

Percila.