Last night I had a dream. You were there, but not as you are. Well, you see, though it´s hard to explain, you were the life running through me. I felt every inch of myself pulsing, flowing, creating, and stretching with you.
And then, in the timelessness of dreams, an instant or eternity, you made me grow taller than the volcanoes that surround us. I looked down at our life from the height you gave me, and with a heart so full that it ached, we floated away beyond our reach.
Mi vida, you are always in my dreams, even when you´re not, and you are always with me, even when you´re not.
The older I get, the less I can see and hear (no joke), but somehow, life grows ever more in focus. When I was younger, believing myself a ¨big kid¨, there were so many intricacies of life that I misinterpreted. I had unrealistically high expectations for the adults around me, and I was frustrated when their actions didn´t necessarily fit into my tiny lens for life.
For a long time, deep in the arrogance of young maturity (ha!), I misunderstood one of the most amazing people this world has offered us: my grandmother. I never asked her enough about her past to understand her the way I should have, and I let my own bitterness over losing grandpa eclipse my empathy.
I should have been better and held my-supposedly-adult-self to the same standards that I held others. I should have listened, asked, and wondered. I should have reminded her every day that I loved her, and that even though I couldn´t grasp everything that went on inside her head and heart, I was (and always will be) grateful for how much she loved me.
I should have done all of that. I didn´t. But, she understood that I was young and dumb, and eventually I would figure it out. It´s a
ll part of the life experience; she would say.
Thank you for that, Baca; for accepting me as I was. Thank you for teaching us to love each other and life without holding back. Thank you for showing us how to enjoy every second of every day, however the hell we want to. Thank you for being that voice in my head, even now, that tells me;
¨everything in life is an experience¨. Thank you for making me understand what a beautiful soul looks like.
So, Happy Birthday, Baca! I´m sorry it´s late and I still haven´t gotten my shit together, but I´m trying.
Three years of marriage, and what do we have to show for it? We have no house, little money, and no kids to show off on facebook like everyone else our age. Your job takes you far away every fifteen days, and I am alone here in this sad excuse for a city.
So, what do we have?
You have the unique gift of righting every wrong in this world; one hug fixes everything. Absolutely everything.
And you have a particular look when you take in all of my imperfections; a silly smile always followed by a kiss, as if my flaws were chocolates.
You have a laugh that tickles me in all the right places, so tickling you is my favorite game… And though you tell me not to, somehow you have the patience not to hate me when I do anyway. That patience can get us through it all.
You have a song for everything, and we make little dances to them wherever we go. We’ll go everywhere, don’t you know?
Your heart is so big that I crawl inside it every night, cuddling each little bit of you. Even from afar, I call it home.
You are magic, my love, and I have you. And I have everything.
Sink into my reality,
like hungry fingers into peanut butter;
American and thick; a bit sticky like a genuine smile,
Dip in deep.
Take some of me.
There is love in every measure.
There is crunch too; rough bitter spots; fears and tears and insecurities mixed around by children playing at being adults.
I am free,
but not my reality.
Taxes and tragedies grow out in gray hairs; stubborn and stark.
Lines draw lasting emotions on my splotched skin; sun, wind and rain thoughts and feelings.
Bills and bombs and goodbyes.
Can you see me?
The sweat, the sigh, and the spirit?
Take a bit,
but just of me.
I will give me gladly.