Archive for June, 2011

Running Back

June 30, 2011

Running Back

Oh, how you ran that early morning! How fast you took me to the old-new house! We got there and everybody was asleep. It was touching to see you smell the tires, the tires of the car where you once rode in the back seat. You looked like a royal prince, the woman said. Your body was all straight and your tail wagged all the way to wherever you were going with them. You pulled me towards their front door. It was locked. You had come in and out of that door so many times for your walks! It was in that house that you grew to love strawberries. The family loved the fruit and you did too.

 

Advertisements

To All the Shelbys Out There– A Dog’s Life

June 28, 2011

A Dog’s Life

A dog’s life is a life. It may not be important but it is. A dog is a living being and as a living being, he or she has feelings. It is sad when an owner surrenders them. It is happy when things go well or when the dog gets a new owner. I shudder when I read about dogs being put to sleep or put down in dog shelters. Space. Space is often the problem. A dog’s life must be protected.

Jasmines and Rubio

June 27, 2011

Jasmines and Rubio
The unforgettable scent of it! Rubio, my German shepherd and I are walking. It is late at night. The heat has been brutal and we are glad to get out of the apt. We walk slowly, with Rubio pulling me a little hard. He is so strong, almost like the Tarzan of the canine world. There is a house on the corner of a long block. It is on the run down side. The people living there have 2 small dogs. The dogs bark each and every time Rubio and I walk by. The house has a jasmine tree. It smells so sweet, just like summer, that I want to linger and enjoy it as much as I can. Rubio likes it too. He stands by the tree smelling the leaves. It is late, I tell him. Let’s go home. We reluctantly walk back.

Burden

June 23, 2011

Burden
Burden. This is a burden. Worrying about housing, where I will be next is a burden. Not knowing where I will get there is a nightmare. It is a bother. I just want to lie down somewhere and shout: Enough already! Leave me alone! I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to know how bad this feeling of being unsettled is. But it intrudes on me. It will not let me be.I don’t belong here. Or do I? Whhere is it that I belong? If not emotionally, then at least physically? I don’t enjoy feeling like I am on edge, on edge most of the time.

My Father

June 17, 2011

He was a self made made in 2 countries—as an almost 40 year old man in Argentina and then in the U.S.  My father used to buy me 18 kt. Gold jewelry some of it with rubies, when I was a little girl. I remember a late 1950s 18 kt. Gold and ruby watch and an 18 kt. Gold and ruby cross. Somehow, I lost the watch once in the late 1990s when I went to Target near San Francisco, with my sister. Our life changed a lot when we came to the U.S. on December 16, 1964 as immigrants. We had to make many adjustments. My father had just turned 57 years old. The doctor from the American Embassy in Buenos Aires who examined him before we came here said that he was too old to start all over again in a new country. My father proved him wrong.

The Crescents

June 17, 2011

The Crescents

It was such a long and hard walk over theBrooklynBridgeto Tribeca. The woman’s stomach made noises. She did not want to know, she did not want to hear. But her stomach insisted. On the corner ofWorth Streetthere was a Starbucks store. It was after 6 in the evening and the garbage was on the sidewalk. She walked by and saw 2 crescents. The woman bent down a little and felt them. Indeed, the crescents were soft, not hard. Should I or shouldn’t I? I want them but I am ashamed and it is sad. Open the bag, a voice inside her told her. Another voice said no, leave the bag alone. Just resist temptation. People were walking by to cross over toFoley Square. I don’t know what to do, she thought.

Care

June 10, 2011

Care

She wanted someone to care about her. She wanted that desperately. Her family left her when she got sick. The house she lived in was dirty. It needed cleaning badly. Most of the rooms had good furniture and some antiques. These were from when she was in her prime, on top of the world. In her bedroom there were pictures of her as a young woman. In the pictures she, a stylishly dressed businesswoman, smiled for the camera. The hats she wore were elegant. They announced to one and all that she had arrived.

The 3 dogs were her new family. They lived together as best they could. She was able to walk 2 of them, the oldr dogs. The third dog didn’t know what it was to be out and about and smelled the fresh air and the green grass.

Years

June 9, 2011

Years

12 years ago today. It has been that long. You were not my blood relative but something linked us. Whatever the bond was, it was there. I felt it and I know you did too. You left this Earth suddenly and I have missed you ever since. When I think of you (and I think of you quite often) it is with gratitude. We met at a difficult time in both our lives. We weren’t together long. It doesn’t matter. You were the relative I needed and ours was more than a friendship. I will never forget you. Besides another person who was in my life years before you and I ran into each other, you are the one I have loved the most. It was you, Otranto, Niebla and el Grandote. I later renamed El Grandote Rubio. There never was a more loyal dog.

Together Again

June 8, 2011

Together Again

It is a beautiful summer day. We are walking, you and I. We see the beautiful homes to our right and left and we cannot help but admire them. I say things to you like, Wouldn’t you like to live there? I know you would and so would I. We are lucky that we have the same tastes.  You cannot talk, and you look up at me with your brown eyes. They are shining. I bend down and pet you. I can tell that you are a little tired so we find a place to rest. You lead me somewhere that has protection for both of us. It is under a thick tree near someone’s garden. We sit and we smile at each other.

Who?

June 7, 2011

Who can Say? Who knows the feeling of being lost and not seeing what one needs to see? I walk the streets so much that I could make a living at it. I gaze at beautiful buildings the way other people gaze at a sunset or a good looking man/woman. The development of the artistic in me is quite good. I have done it by practice.