gratitude January 8, 2010

I sold most my books.  I’ve been collecting them for years.  When I was little I only had one book.  It was purple and pink with glitter and fairies.  Someone gave it to me from Spain.  Actually there were others but encyclopedias don’t seem to fit the same category.  Papi bought us The World Book Encyclopedia Collection from a door to door salesman.

I kept some books that I read over and over like bell hooks’ All About Love and The House on Mango Street.  There went my dream of having a whole room as a library.  Maybe it can happen again.  For now I just want to focus on writing my own books.

I’ve been living the nomadic life for the past few months.  Even in my own home.  I am on the couch and I feel nice and cozy.  My husband is up north.  I will go back and forth, inshaAllah.  Driving through hills and an abundance of trees.  At least the long drive is pretty.  Maybe I can stop at one of those drive-thru coffee places like I’ve wanted to.  My friends are staying in my room.  They are a couple that can’t fit on the couch.  I kinda like it.  I wake up and am able to see the fajr sky turn into sunrise.  There is sunlight through my windows making the plants greener.  I don’t know where our next place will be.  Somewhere in Oakland, perhaps, where my husband and stepdaughter could be near the woods.  Maybe a house with a little creek.

I had writers block for some time.  Every day I prayed on it.  I asked for the words to come to me.  The images, the stories.  I cried and prayed and waited.  Then one afternoon during prayer it all came to me.  I was so grateful, all I did was write.  Before my prayers, before it came back I was worried that I wouldn’t write anymore.  That my existence would be in making dinner and sweeping.  That I would be like my abuela who stopped dancing and my mami who stopped painting.  They didn’t have husbands like mine.  He supports me in ways I couldn’t have even asked for.  After the words came back I realized the words never left me.  They were just tucked away in reserve ready to come out when I stopped worrying about it all.

Life is constant transformation.  I’ve been working on it.  When I give thanks I am even grateful for the hardship, the lessons, every mistake I have made.  For many years I thought it would be best if I would be by myself.  This way no one would really know me, I would never get hurt, I would do things my way-the only way.  But that is not what I really wanted.  I wanted something different from what my parents had.  I wanted stability and love and reassurance and to be with someone that I could truly be myself with.  At the beginning of last year I thought about what I wanted to work on.

1-to let go of my guard.

2-to see people more

3-to say yes more (to good things).

My friend wrote them on a post-it note and put it on my fridge.  It is still there and I am amazed at how it all came together.  I did the work and even though there is still more work to do I got the greatest results.  My spirituality and knowledge has grown and gotten stronger, I have supportive friends and family, I married Adam and gained a beautiful stepdaughter.  Then on Monday I found out that I am mentioned in Tiki Tiki as a Latina you should meet in 2010!  I was so excited and grateful.  Love all around.

I knew I wanted to be a nomad for some time.  I didn’t know it would exactly be like this.  it is perfect, just the way it should be.  I feel full and most importantly grateful.

the end.

Loving in contentment January 5, 2010

I spent the day holding a baby.  Three months old he slightly squirmed in my arms.  His mama said he doesn’t smile at people like he does with me.  I told her it’s the curls.  They spiral and twist, my hair is big.  Big enough for him to pull on tight.

I sang him lullabies and recited surahs.  I danced with him and blew on his face when he got hot.  I spent nine hours caring and loving.  I like this work.

I have a stepdaughter now.  She just turned ten.  She plays legos and talks in different accents.  While I cook dinner I pretend we’re in a Broadway musical.  She sits at her art table and laughs, “oh Mimi”.  I wonder when I birth more children, inshaAllah, what they will call me.  Mama, Mami or Mimi.  This is unlike the childhood of my home.  I’ve noticed that the stings stay with me longer and I have to remember the good moments, too.

I am remembering now.  I remember my mami teaching me how to dance and her songs while she sewed.  I remember the Julio Iglesias records, the Sunday morning boleros and me trying to dance like Janet Jackson after watching Video Music Box.  I remember the 80s, Doug E Fresh, Slick Rick and looking out the apartment window.  I won’t tell you about the silence because I’ve written too much about that.

My stepdaughter is now one of my teachers.  I am learning to guide her in ways that I cherish from my mami and to be more mindful of where she is at right now.  I feel like I am taking a crash course.  Thankfully,  I love her.  I love how she stays hugging me for a long time.  In the middle of the living room I tell her about Stevie Wonder as she hears my heart beat.

This is loving in contentment.  Sometimes it feels like bliss.

the end.