May 21, 2013
Trappings of Wealth
Crystal chandeliers. There are wide and large chandeliers hanging from a thick chocolate brown mahogany ceiling. Beautiful velvet-covered chairs, with a shiny low wooden table near them. Long white curtains adorn French windows. A large bookcase is on the wall opposite the velvet chairs. The woman in the room was no longer young. Her dark blue suit is made of wool. It is neither too large nor too small. For once, the woman is wearing something that fits her and only her. No more clothes bought in thrift shops. Now the woman has money. She can dress the way she likes. She can live where she wants, and not where she has to live. She is no longer forced to do she does not want to do. She can be herself at long last.
May 21, 2013
I have found a friend. You, little man, are so much more than that. We may not belong together but we are together. You and I visit the same place. We share the same tastes. I love you and you love me. You make me smile. I am happy. My heart wants me to please you. My heart would be sad if I could not see you again. I have just found you, my friend. We ha
May 9, 2013
The mornings. Those were our time together. The mornings when all was quiet and nobody was about. It was fun, like playing hokey from school. We could pretend we were running away together somewhere far, very far. I can still see us when we were alone. You’d look at me and I’d look at you. No words were needed. I knew you. I understood you. You returned the favor. Our bond came to us by accident, but it was unforgettable.
May 5, 2013
The bushes, the trees—they are so green and beautiful in the early morning hours. I smell the jasmine trees, remembering that other smell of jasmines, so long ago and in such a faraway place. I see you, my little friend. You are next to me. You wait for me to do what I need to do before we continue on our way. I can see your smile. Your tongue is sticking out, as if you were relieved and glad.
It has been worthwhile. I want you to know that. My time with you has been worth it. It has made both of us happy. Let’s go back, I say. You follow me. The trees and the bushes and the flowers—these will be part of us forever. I will never forget you.
April 29, 2013
You and me. You keeping me company. You with your body resting next to my feet as I typed on the computer or listen to the Old Time radio shows. You as in a living being I can depend on. We did things together. By looking at you, I understood what you were saying without words. I knew what you wanted. I wanted to please you, to make you happy. In a way, we were kindred spirits. I understood your needs and you understood mine. I did not judge you. You did not judge me. That was the best present we gave one another. You did not belong to me, but it didn’t matter. The bond was there just the same.
April 29, 2013
Get out. Go somewhere else. Don’t be here. Be some other place. This is a place, but it is not the right place for you. All my life, the woman thought. All my life I have been asked to get out. I have been evicted by my feelings and by circumstances. She watched the people walk by the street where she was now living. They got into a car. It is easy for them. A car is a great resource. It can take a person far. The farther the better.
April 21, 2013
The Train Tickets
There they are. Small half white, half orange train tickets. The tickets are rectangular-shaped. So many of them! I just found so many train tickets. I saw them in an old transparent plastic bag. The tickets were not tied together with a rubber band. They were all over bag and I had to fish some of them out. I must have traveled quite often back then, to and from the city. It was 6 blocks from our house to the train station and I hurried to catch the 11:30.
I don’t want to think too much about that time—that long ago time. It is gone. I hurts to know that I can’t pull back those dear years back to me. Our house, he streets of our neighborhood on the way to the station and my love—I will never see them again.
April 10, 2013
When this dog is next to me, and looks up at me with his brown eyes, I realize how important he has become. I am reminded of Rubio, my star dog. He used to lie down on the kitchen floor. I have a picture of him. The picture was taken in somebody else’s kitchen. His eyes are looking at the camera. The expression is sad, as if something were missing. I cannot think that this new dog (belonging to someone else) is mine or that he is like Rubio. He isn’t. But he does keep me great company and I feel less lonely. He is my new temporary friend. He will always be my friend.
April 9, 2013
The Walks We Had
Intense. Yes, they were intense. Fun. They were fun. I had a purpose again. We—you and I—had a goal. Whatever they were, they were never dull. I never yawned after we got back from them. I pulled and you followed. Or, you pulled and I followed. I didn’t tell. I didn’t tell anyone. I never wanted our walks to end. I don’t know how it happened. Maybe it was the company we kept each other. Being with you was a pleasure, a big treat. And you were so happy; you were such a different dog after our walks. Your eyes shone. You were alert. I will miss our outings even more than you.
April 4, 2013
3. Animal abuse drives me batshit crazy. Homelessness, eviction, and poverty too. None of these should exist.
4.An unforgettable moment in my life is when I told a man that I was in love with him. He was a priest. I was scared and shaking, but I did it. I had to tell him.
- My dream vacation would be Hawaii. I love the sun, the smoothies, the water—everything.
- At age 10, I dreamed of being a writer.
- I would travel back in time to the 1930s. I have watched movies from the 30s and read books about that decade. I love the clothes, the way they talked—everything except the poverty.
- If I could transform myself into a celebrity for one day, it would be Duchess Kate of Cambridge.
- Fun is being free, being own self.
- My worst habit is being trusting and still naïve.
- My first current project is the screen version of my novel Different Flags. My second current project is a book about my experiences in New York City.