Archive for July, 2012

The Story

July 31, 2012

 The Story

Someone is searching for who knows what. There is something missing from her life, but she can’t put a finger on it. Still, the hole is there and it hurts. It eats away at her. She is confused and frustrated. What amI doing wrong, she asks. One day, as if by some miracle, she gets to go to a place where the lights shine most of the time. The sense of belonging, maybe belonging, even if she is a foreigner and an outsider, make her happy. She starts dreaming again and the feelings she had not allowed herself to feel come back. She knows passion. She knows love. Not everything is perfect. In this new world, the young woman learns that there is no such thing as a perfect anything. But the deep love is there and she does not want to let go. She would love for her place to be there, in this place with magic, with tenderness and warmth.

Tail

July 30, 2012

Tail

I see a fluffy black and blond tail up in the air. You knew you owned the block of our neighborhood. You owned every block. In the summer months of Buenos Aires, when the weather pushed people back home, you wanted to go out. In the elevator, you looked at me, then at the zigzag door. We reached the lobby and you were the first one out. Your tail was your pride and joy. It went up the minute we were on the sidewalk. I loved walking with my German shepherd.

Get

July 29, 2012

Get

She walked slowly, one small step at a time. Look at the houses, she thought to herself. Somebody lives in them. Somebody has a house, an apt. They have something. An elderly woman passed her by. She was pushing a big black cart. In the cart there were two huge black bags. The elderly woman stopped at a brownstone. She opened the garbage can near the curb. Nothing here but bottles, she said, talking to herself. Used to be these people would leave food for us. Now nothing. You don’t get much for these bottles. What am I going to do? The first woman shuddered. Like her. I am going to be like her if I don’t watch out.

 

 

 

 

Count the Days

July 27, 2012

Count the Days

Yes, I am counting them: 9, 8, 7, 6—until I get to zero. The days rush by and there is no time to think. There is no time to rest my head and think. I can hardly breathe. Another deadline is upon me. Another housing deadline. What to do. Just what am I supposed to do? Action against me. Some action will be taken against me. I am in despair. It is many years ago all over again when another person went through a similar experience. She didn’t make it.

 

 

 

 

No HelpWalking …

July 24, 2012

No Help

Walking the hot pavement of downtown Brooklyn, looking for help; any kind of legal help. There is no way I can afford a paid lawyer. Free legal help is not easy to come by. It is a nightmare—to me this eviction warning is the worst possible kind of nightmare. It comes on top of my foreclosure in GA and on top of 4 more years of uncertainty and agony. If I had known all this and the price, the deep emotional and psychological price, I  would have to pay for the sake of a roof over my head, I would have ran the other way.  I would have taken my cat and gone off somewhere far with her. I have felt homeless all these years. I have identified myself with the homeless and their plight. I feel that there is no going back—losing one home after another, after another, has changed my life. And it has not been a good change. I could be nice and say stuff like I have learned a lot from these experiences, but what does that matter when I may have to hit the streets again?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Abyss

July 20, 2012

Abyss

It is a nightmare. I can’t shake it. I can’t even cry. All my eyes are able to do is look surprised when I am told how bad my situation is. I wonder if it can get worse. If it can, what will that be—what will happen? I have already lost my home; I have wandered the streets and now this. After all this time, I am still homeless. I look everywhere for a sign, for a way out. I tell myself that I am smart and that I should be find something—anything is better than this. It is a future without hope.

 

 

4 Rubios and a Ghost

July 17, 2012

4

The first one walked with his owner on Grand Street and Norfolk. He was a thin German shepherd and he smiled.

The second dog was running by the side of his owner. The bicycle was going fast and the German shepherd kept up with him.

The third German shepherd smiled at me as I waved. He was getting relief on the balcony of his home. His owner, a girl in her late teens was reading the paper next to him.

The fourth German shepherd rested his body on the tiles of the yard outside his building the day was very hot and his tongue was out. He kept up a brave front even with the 91 Fahrenheit heat.

These dogs remind me of Rubio, my Rubio. I love him and seeing them is almost as if he were with me everywhere I go.

Tia

July 17, 2012

Tia:

Tia was evicted. She became an elderly woman without a home. She could not live anywhere except in her neighborhood, the neighborhood she loved. Tia had friends in the neighborhood and her block had magic in it. She was visible. She had a face. There was always someone to talk to when she had something to say. In a flash, her neighborhood was gone. All was dark.

 

Carmen

July 12, 2012

17 years ago today, Carmen, my first old lady after my Tia, died in a nursing home in Buenos Aires. Carmen was very sweet and I would visit her in her home (an apt. borrowed from her well to do niece) in the early 1990s. When the neighbors complained that Carmen forgot to turn off the gas, the niece put her in a nursing home. I visited her there in the barrio of Floresta in Buenos Aires. Then Carmen was changed to another nursing home where she broke her hip. She never recovered. She was like the grandmother I never knew. I loved the old lady and can remember the smell of urine in her body. The people at the first nursing home did the best they could but Carmen’s bladder was erratic, even when she wore diapers. She was a thin little white haired lady who wore a cane and spoke with a pure Spanish accent. She was born in Galicia, in Northern Spain and sounded as if she had just arrived in Argentina the day before.

 

Outside

July 12, 2012

Outside

She stood on the sidewalk. Neighbors walked by. When are the movers coming? I don’t know, she told them. They said around 11 but it’s almost noon now. You’ll be better in the new neighborhood. The woman’s dark brown eyes looked at the sidewalk. Yes, maybe. I don’t know. Another woman patted her on the shoulder. You’ll miss us and we’ll miss you. We’ll see each other again. She looked up at the neighbor, shaking her head. I don’t want to move. I like it here. This is my home. It was our home. The woman neighbor tried a smile. I am sorry. I have to run some errands. Bye. Good luck.