Sunday, December 29, 2013

Ignorant Heart

As I sit at the Delta gate ready to board my flight "home" to Miami, my heart does not feel like it left the one bedroom apartment in NJ that it just cohabitated for seven days.
I can feel it throbbing under the thin reversible navy blue comforter aching for its body to come back and keep it alive.
An outer body experience, as my eyes see airplanes, Hudson News stands, and luggage, but my heart, nestled in the bed we shared, feels warm, familiar, and safe.
My heart resisted leaving the strong doorways that slammed shut behind my body forcing me step by step to my chosen life in Miami.
It hopped out stubbornly from my chest, and with each sequential heartbeat, it pumped and jumped from the front door to the bedroom...
lub-dup... lub dup...
Squirting a bit of blood with each beat, a trail of A- blood is unapologetically left over each cold speckled tile in the apartment.
My head feels faint from the lack of oxygen being pumped to it and I can feel my limps slowly losing functionality.
It takes only six minutes without blood for your body to begin deteriorating and your brain cells to begin to perish.
My body wants to go back and collect its stubborn heart - tell it that this is the path I must take, tell it that this is the choice I made, and tell it that this is not my time yet.
But then the engine starts and the car starts to drive away...
The rain outside is a serendipitous parallel to my inner body - empty, cold, and sorrowful.
As we reach the highway to the airport, I know there is no turning back.
My body will have to live sans heart for a bit...
The heart is an ignorant and illogical organ.
It does what it wants and thinks what it wants. My rational head cannot contain its independent nature.
One day I pray that my heart and head will finally agree and be at peace.
My head obliges as I walk onto the plane - "I will see you in July, my stubborn heart."
Enjoy the warm embraces, DJ music, curry chicken, GTA games, and all the laughs.
Please report all of your stories, adventures, and memories back to me in seven months.
I will be eagerly waiting.

Monday, December 9, 2013

The Wait

1268 miles.
One thousand two hundred sixty eight. Twelve sixty eight.
Eighteen hours and sixteen minutes.
Those last grueling sixteen minutes separate the normalcy and monotony of life with bliss.
Waiting patiently…
17 days – 408 hours – 24,480 minutes.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Secrets

In my head, I believe you are mine.
I'd be lying to you if I told you that I didn't think about you every morning and didn't want to hold you every night.
I want to lay on your couch holding you close watching Netflix and eating sandwiches from the bodega down the street (or corner store, as you call it.)
I want to watch rereuns of Grey's Anatomy and hear you talk about how when they killed George you were angry.
I want to have deep intellectual conversations with you -
Discuss science, race, religion, and what our future children will look like.
I yearn to tell you that I love you every time we hang up the phone.
I wish you understood that I would never knowingly hurt you nor wish any harm on you.
I want to give you the ripest fruit of my gardens and the richest honey of my ethers every day.
With every thought of my future and every major decision I make, I imagine what you would tell me and what your advice would be.
I secretly wish you would move to Florida or I would move back north.
Home to me is in your arms. No other location has ever felt so safe.
A man like you is a rarity.
I pray for you all the time.
Your future success is extremely important to me. What woman doesn't want to see the man she loves succeed?
I want to be your loudest cheerleader and most trusted wingwoman.
I want to see you happy. You've spent too many years unhappy and your time is coming. I can't wait.
I sometimes dial your number and then don't press send.
I usually wait for you to call me so that I know I'm not bothering you.
Listening to soca music makes me feel more connected to you and your culture.
I love Trini culture now.
My dance instructor calls me "Trini girl" and my heart smiles.
Never would I have imagined eating shark and I would have said no if anyone but you had asked me to try it.
I've tried for a year to move on without success.
I compare every man to you - your good heart, old school morals, your relationship with Christ, your intellect, and foresight.
I've prayed for a man with certain characteristics and qualities for years. You have all of them.
I have dreams of living the rest of my life with you.
I can't see myself ever not talking to you.
I always wonder what you think of me...
Every new experience I have I wish you could experience it with me.
I want to share my happines with you and always lift you up higher.
I want to cook you dinner and pack you lunch with a cute note inside your bag since I know how much you hate Subway sandwiches.
I wish I could meet your mom and tell her what a fantastic son she has raised.
No other man compares to you.
If I had to chose between your happines and mine, I would always choose yours.
Most of all, I wish you would open your heart to receiving and giving love again. You've cemented walls to keep love out, but you've cemented potential happiness out as well.
I believe in a future with you.
You own my heart and I'm not sure you are aware.
They say in love that sometimes "you just know."
Well, I just know.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Tidal Reflection

There are few things in this world that leave me dumbfound and breathless.
The ocean is one of them.
Its waves drown my thoughts and fill my lungs with gratefulness.
As I stand by the foamy ocean edge looking into the vast curved horizon, I am reminded of my grandmother - a selfless and caring warrior who is no doubt surfing in the magical red, pink, and blue clouds ahead of me.
I can feel her warm smile as she gently blows me a kiss, caressing my beach blown hair and leaving me goosebumps.
These are the moments I treasure and attempt to capture in my worn out memory box.
An old white former shoebox aged by seven years and filled to the brim with nostalgia, hope, heartache, and tears.
A robber would never care to take a box so worn out containing nothing but useless relics.
Yet no gold, silver, or diamond could amount to the emotional sentiment contained within.
I secretly wish I could bottle the wonder and awe of the ebbing waves with the purple blue sunset to store it in my box.
I know however that it would be selfish to keep such beauty to myself...
As I bid adieu to the salty crisp air, blazing sun, white sand, and astounding ocean for the day, know that I am thinking of you.
You are on my mind and I wish you could experience this joy with me.
As I look up towards the sky on the short walk back to my car, I am greeted with the sweet welcome hello of our grandiose satellite moon,
And I know that somewhere you are thinking of me too.

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Happy.

Woke up this Saturday morning to the sun shining into my canopy bed warming my face and inviting me to a new day. I step outside onto my balcony and lay in my hammock in awe of the beauty of this earth. The water from the kiddie pool below making a gentle and calming sound to soothe, the hot sun blazing on my cheeks and legs to create a crisp brown tan later in the day, and the coo-ing of birds freshly awakened ready for a day's adventure. It is peaceful out here with no one in sight, empty pools below, and no sounds other than that of nature. Palm trees sway softly in the background with the light wind interrupted only by the rare pigeon landing at its trunk for a rest, leaving me stunned as to how I am so fortunate to live in this paradise. Life is wonderful. This is the state of living I so yearned up north and desperately chased. Peace, happiness, and undeniable joy.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

"You have time."

"You have time."
Those three words could burn a chasm through my hypodermis without rupturing a single slender vein.
My body has become immune to the punctures that have been repeated to me by every friend, family member, and ex.
It no longer reacts with a tender sorrow and eruption of violent tears.
It has become an expected response.
My body is numb to the optimism of those words; the way that a patient with diabetes is anesthetized to their diurnal prick.
The regularity and predictability of the cut has concealed its sting and weight over life’s normal proceedings.
The wait for the “right” time and the “right” man and the “right” moment has exhausted my tear ducts to the point of dehydration.
Please refrain from preaching to me that “You are young,” or “Everything happens for a reason,” or my new favorite: “Trust God’s timing.”
I am weary of the forged confidence inherent in their articulation.
The suspicion that an Eve has been crafted without an Adam will likely cause tumult for some,
But after lonely years, futile dates, and failed relationships, the skepticism has built a durable layer of subcutaneous tissue to sustain each subsequent piercing.
Piercings that are imperceptible to observers, but merely masked by a strong countenance hiding the fragmented craters underneath.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

New City, Old Ways

Laying on my baby blue beach towel on the hot summer sand is my happy place.
But the waves that crash into the surf today mimic the tears rolling down my face as they collide with the sides of my sun-screened nose and full lips.
Have you ever noticed the coincidental saltiness of a tear drop?