That love and the child within

I wrote bits and pieces since I remember. Handwriting, which is unheard of nowadays. Before I had that big copy full of poems back in secondary school, I just took scraps of paper and wrote down how I felt. I mainly wrote for my dad. I hoped he ll hear my cries and wishing him back. He never came back. He left me forever, same with that copy full of verses and thoughts, that I never found again. But they re not lost, they re buried deep, same place with the child within. 

It almost seems like I used to feel more (what a stupid thing to say !), 'cause I m a believer of “heart beats time”. We keep the child inside forever, is only that we get better and better at hiding him, against the harsh reality and others.

Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon.

A happiness weapon.A beauty bomb.

And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one.

It would explode high in the air--explode softly--and send thousands,

millions, of little parachutes into the air.

Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas.

And we wouldn't go cheap, either--not little boxes of eight.

Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in.

With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime,

amber and umber and all the rest.

And people would smile and get a little funny look

on their faces and cover the world with imagination. (Robert Fulghum)

The others are the enemy, as we keep pretending to them and to ourselves. Putting up a face in order to fit in to some man created, mostly deeply flawed principles.  As I was saying, I felt a craving. A crave for writing and it was time to put a stop to it.


I m writing for myself. Thoughts of being someone big some day- I do have them... but to know I’ll be?  I m not SO full of myself! (maybe only once in a while, and that’s not now)  I write for Brandon too. And for my mum, cause she’s a key persona in my life.  I m a lot of me because of her.
I don’t like being compared to my mama, and this is an awful thing to say, but is also not what you understand of it. Whatever you recognize in others, you have in you. Can't forget this and it summarizes best on how I feel about me being like my ma’. I love her to bits, while I resent being like her, because she’s a result of drama, and as much as I don’t like it, so am I. If in a different way, if of a different drama. I ll be using a couple of big shocking harsh words too, which by the way I don’t do it intentionally (as I resent anything that helps to exaggerate reality- in this case, words)

And while I promise I won’t exaggerate, those bigger than life words are needed now... 

With mama always in my heart, here we go

My dear mum,

The thought that you might not be around one day

is just plain scary.

I know I m not calling you enough,

that I forget to say thank you,

that you exist, that I exist, that my son, because of you, exits, 

and he s the happiness of my life,

and he s enough to make me smile,

so I smile because of you every single day.

Brandon said one day, when I asked him if he wanted milk:  “Mami, you are my milk !" It made me smile and think of von Ghoethe 's saying : One must ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste.

Mammy dear, you are so much for me….. You are an example for me in being strong, in being happy, in being optimistic, in being naughty, in being mad, in taking life with a pinch of salt, in making fun of bad, of jumping around in the sun, of laughing out loud of some stupid bitching from whoever! You are the power that I have in me, without you I d be weak and nothing. I want you around, be near me when I m having a girl, and maybe a third baby……..I need you to tell me that I don’t do this or that right, meaning the way you do it……..so what? I may not listen to you, but you must keep up the talk, cause you might as well be the only person who speaks to me, I want nobody else teaching me what to do!
 I love you ma’.  Not till I die, forever after !

The real you is still a little child who never grew up. Sometimes that little child
comes out when you are having fun or playing, when you feel happy, when you
are painting, or writing poetry, or playing the piano, or expressing yourself in
some way. These are the happiest moments of your life--when the real you
comes out, when you don't care about the past and you don't
worry about the future. You are childlike.   (Don Miguel Ruiz , The Four Agreements )

Thank you mum! It must be for you, that I m childlike at times, that I keep on reaching out and reaching within, that I keep being the real me...