Posts Tagged ‘Different Flags’

Supposed

March 28, 2017

Supposed

This isn’t happening. It is not supposed to happen. You and I are standing by ourselves within 2 or 3 feet from one another. We don’t dare to get close. We feel, but we shouldn’t feel. I don’t dare walk to where you are. I could pretend that I need to ask you something, but if I do, my eyes would tell you things you don’t want to know. There is no one. You are the dream of my life. There is no other.

 

 

 

 

 

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How Long

October 8, 2016

How Long

Tell me, how long has it been? How many years exactly? We met, I know. I remember that. It was on a Monday and I couldn’t believe who I was being introduced to. I lowered my eyes when we shook hands; I was young and didn’t know what to say beyond: nice to meet you. I saw something familiar in you, something I believed I saw somewhere else but didn’t remember where. Even now I can’t quite put my finger on what it was. It must have been the unusual place or how handsome you looked. You were a significant shadow, the beginning of something unforgettable.

 

 

Curious

September 25, 2016

Curious

I don’t remember; it is blurry and not clear. I can’t see your face in my mind anymore. It’s gone. But the feelings, those will remain in me forever. The way my legs would hurry as I walked towards you, how my heart would pound when I looked at you; the redness in my face if you happened to glance at me. These memories have faces. They have skin and bones. It is my heart. My heart has been so stubborn all these years. I met you; nothing was what it had been. I had no map, no way to discern what I was experiencing, not at first. Sometime later I pieced it all together and I knew. Something in you responded to something in me. You were it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Green

June 17, 2016

Green

There! It’s that one, that one over there. The woman seated by the corner is wearing a green skirt similar to the one I wore years ago, back in the 80s. It was part of a 2-piece suit and I looked beautiful. I was beautiful. The afternoon was hot. It felt hot in that crowded bus. I had to tell him. I was scared. I didn’t know what he would say or react, but I had to run the risk. My love was so genuine. I had never loved like that before. There was not going to be any pressure when we met again. I wasn’t going to force him to anything. It happened. We went through 4 hours—4 long hours. The fluorescent lamp hurt my head. I thought it would burn right through my head. Then it was an abrupt goodbye. That was it.

It

November 12, 2015

It

It is it. Rather, it is them. And it is sometimes only them. They are the protagonists, the stars of the story. They are the stars of the conflict that consumes their existence. It is them and only them. They care. Nothing in their lives is as important as that, their drama. Sometimes it is pride. Pride is the culprit, the guilty party. Sometimes inexperience about sex, about love and what it means is the one. That can hit a young person suddenly and unexpectedly. What does this mean? Why am I feeling this way? What can come after this? What can I do to learn? I am afraid. I don’t know why it didn’t happen sooner. I like it. I love it. I have no one to talk to about this. Who can I trust? The people I know are not my age; they are a lot older and they may not understand. I feel alone. I feel isolated. I don’t want this experience to go away ever. If it were up to me, it would last forever. I’d be near him forever. I would never leave him. To go away would hurt me. And I would come back over and over again. I would do that just to see him, just to be near him.

Protagonists

November 12, 2015

They care. Sometimes it is only them. The protagonists, the people involved in the matter, in the conflict, care. It is their story. It is part of their lives. The drama belongs to them and to no one else. If they fail, it is because of their flaws or their unwillingness to give in. Sometimes their pride betrays them. Other times, it is something else. Often inexperience is the culprit. Inexperience about love and sex. Sex is one of the subjects that wasn’t talked about in other years. Children were not supposed to know that there was such a thing as sex. When they became teenagers and young adults, they were baffled, confused. Why am I feeling this way? What does it mean? Fear. Fear of finding out more. Fear of knowing more because you might not have the person you love.

Memories

July 10, 2015

Memories of him. Memories of her. Precious memories of time spent with love and affection. Moments of great passion. How much passion was to her unbelievable. The feelings of the heart that can never be forgotten. The love for him, the first real love of her life and the affection for her, her second mother. The years that have passed since these two people left her life have often been empty and unreal. She thought they would last forever, the simple pleasures of running into him, of seeing him and being near, then talking to him as if she had known him all her life. She didn’t care what he was–Forbidden or not, he was hers because she loved him. And the little old lady she lived with–the feisty black  and white haired woman. The old lady dressed in dark colors and wore moccasins. She seemed so frail, so easily destructible. When she looked at the young woman, her eyes became  alive again. They had that light in them, that special something that only affection has. That time has gone. It will never come back. But in the former young woman’s heart, the time is here. It is now, just as real as it was then, in that small town, that small world she lived for.

Waiting

May 17, 2014

A young woman. She is sitting in one of the church benches. Her eyes look at the floor. Will I see him today? Will he show up soon? I haven’t seen him since last Tuesday, a week ago. I love him. I can’t get enough of it, of being near him.

Celibacy

June 29, 2012

Celibacy

It shouldn’t matter now. The experience is way behind me. I loved him loved ago. I didn’t love him because he was an authority figure or couldn’t have a girlfriend and marry out in the open. I didn’t love him because if he had his own biological children, he couldn’t acknowledge them. I just loved him as soon as I saw him. If the Church were to suddenly see the light and make Celibacy optional instead of Obligatory, I wouldn’t benefit by the change. I am not going to get the man I loved back. Nevertheless, I hate the Celibacy Rule as it stands today. It is unnatural and not right.  It reminds me of my feelings as a passionate young woman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Different Flags–chapter 4

October 27, 2008

Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.

 

   

 Different Flags

                                                     

                     Chapter 4

 

The kitchen was my favorite part of my aunt’s house.

After our conversation in the living room, I went and

sat on the chair facing the sink. I had come all the

way from San Francisco. I had travelled thousands of

miles to Argentina. Now, after 2 weeks, it looked like

I would have to go back. And I didn’t want to. I loved

San Francisco, but not my life there. I felt like a

drudge, like someone who lived only to clean and shop

for the most inexpensive food available.

 

I didn’t know if this stay in Buenos Aires would be

any better. I needed time to find out. Besides, my Tia

needed me. She was my mother’s only sister and she was

in financial and emotional trouble. Where would she go

if I left? A nursing home seemed unthinkable. Nursing

homes were old people storage places and my aunt

wasn’t that old. She was only 67, although she looked

10 years older. My uncle’s illness had taken quite a

toll on her.

I shook my head. Luis. Padre Luis was more respectful.

Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe what I really wanted

was to stay because of him. Yes, he was a priest.

Everyone in the parish liked him. I thought he was the

most attractive man I had ever seen. He was almost my

age, too. A neighbor had mentioned that he was 27. I

had just turned 25. But inside me I had felt at least

20 years older. Was that part of the reason I was

drawn to him? A relative had once told me that I

dressed like somebody’s mother. At the time, the

remark hurt, but then I realized they were speaking the

truth. Dowdy would aptly describe my clothes. I couldn’t feel young. Young was something I was not familiar with.

 

A little bit of reality check. Priests could not marry

Nor have girlfriends. I knew that silly rule existed. I

Would not get emotionally involved with him. After

all, I was my aunt’s niece from Norte America and I

Wouldn’t be in Buenos Aires long. Passing by, then

Moving on. That way, if I happened to fall in love

With him, it wouldn’t hurt. Not every much, anyway.