Secrets of a Poet: Tears of Christmas

Secrets of a Poet: Tears of Christmas: It is the day after Christmas and I have cried three times today. I can’t explain the feeling. I don’t even know if it’s sadness. I ha...

Tears of Christmas

It is the day after Christmas and I have cried three times today. I can’t explain the feeling. I don’t even know if it’s sadness. I had two amazing days with people that treat me like I am a part of something. The something that I am feeling is hard to except because I have never felt that good in my life. As a kid many things seemed great. My cousins were the best, my brothers, my aunts and uncles but deep down there was something missing. I was missing a sense of belonging and not know who you are. At the age of twenty eight I should know who I am but the reality is I’m still finding Karla. When I was eighteen I dated a boy named Joel whose family was loving and caring but I let it go because I did not think I deserved it. When I dated Eric he made me part of his entire life every single bit of it and once again I let that go because, how could a girl like me deserve that? When I met Michael P he turned my world into a world made for a princess. The one thing Disney forgets to tell us is that if you have never experienced the world of royalty you become lost; and it’s unfair for the person that has to try and polish you.  Then I met who I believed was my perfect named Michael B and then you realize he never loved you.  At that exact moment I finally met my prince, my dad. For the first time in my life it all makes sense. Mike B came into my life as a “learner” to teach me that it is possible to love. My father came into my life to teach me about me and give me an identity. The reason I do not talk to my mother is because I was in search for myself. The tears I cry tonight happen because I am happy that I can see the road to something bigger and better. The Stohler family came into my life in the most important time and in the most needed time for me. The day I met Abby Stohler, I mean really met her was the day she offer a helping hand to me without even knowing me. I was in such bad place in my life and she overheard me talking about my breakup with Mike B and she offer to talk or to get coffee. This was foreign to me, this girl that had only known me for a month or two wanted to be there for me. It was faith that I could meet such a person and shortly after I met her family. Sitting in a room full of sounds of laughter, giggles, snuggles, random dancing and singing I felt so welcomed. I felt a part of a family. The one thing Mike B thought me is that you can allow yourself to feel and deserve love. The one thing my father has thought me is that things do not always have to be so black and white. The day after Christmas I cry because I am on my way to getting to know me. We all deserve to be loved, to love but most important to know how to love you.

Milk

I was 6 years old the first time I felt desperation. It was about two am and my mother was not home. Not sure if she was out or actually working most night became a blur. My baby brother Jonny was crying and I had to get up to feed him. We lived in te garage of this house my family rented. At first I took Jonny into my arms and began to sing and that did not work. Then I changed his diaper but that did not work. He kept crying. I set him down to make him a bottle when out of my small six year ok hands the entire container fell. Powder milk everywhere. I did not know what to do but scoop some into te bottle. Sorry Jonny.  I began to cry because I was so desperate. I just wanted to make him feel better. I was scared what would she say? All I could think of was her being mad. There in the middle of the night a 6 month old baby and a six year old girl cried side by side until we fell asleep. The world was to huge and I felt the size of an ant. 

Winter

Winter is back

Bitter and cold, it slaps you

Thinking of last year

You sit there so sad

Snow on the ground reminds you that it’s hard

The wind blows on your face

Your nose, oh so cold

You have forgotten the soft warm touch of his kiss

In the dark all you hear is silence

You are afraid

Then one day

 

You realize the harsh bitter truth, you never needed him

He is long gone and all is fine

He is just the old cold shadow following you

He no longer has the power, you can look into his face

You can change the shape of the shadow, it’s yours

It never belonged to him, he never had the power

The soft warm touch was your mind, it was your hand and your heart

The heart that you gave to him but now you can take it back

It was never his too keep

It’s just a matter of time

When you sit there looking out the window

Sitting next to your dog, not a sound around

Christmas lights glimmering, don’t forget you are not alone

It was always you and winter battling

So turn around and walk away from the shadow

And take what’s yours

so long winter

Ho Ho Ho

Oh Christmas!

Christmas is not hard because I need or want things; it’s hard because I have such a mix feeling about it. Growing up with 22 cousins was amazing. I loved Christmas as a kid because I always awaited the arrival of all my cousins at my grandmother home. There were several groups of cousins. See in every family there is a “Tele novela “or what Americans call a soap opera. The dynamic of my family was simple because every family was defined and I guess that’s the same for everyone around the world.  My mother had 6 siblings and she was the 3^rd oldest. There were 5 girls and two boys. For purposes of protection I will only use their first letter of their name.

L was the oldest and had 3 boys. Two of her boys were a few years older than me. This was the all American family. They played sports, had the best of everything and were born in the US. They even had soda, and if you were a kid in the90’s that was huge.

A was the second oldest and had 4 boys.  They were also pretty cool and had top of the line everything. Except these cousins were a bit different because they were mix of Mexican and Pilipino, not a bad thing but it was different.

G was the fourth oldest and her kids were brats. I hate to say it because we are all brats as kids but this was above and beyond. There were two girls and two boys. These kids were the ones that had to have what they wanted, when they wanted and they got it. Other than fast food they did not eat regular food.

B was the fifth one in the family and she had two girls and two boys. They were the perfect family. Her husband worked and she was a stay home mom. The girls were not allowed to play with boys and were never to settle for less. Name brands were a big deal and the girls were made to be wives someday. The boys were brats but for the most part I was closest to them. I always admired their mother she always seemed so calm and collected like nothing could face her.  My grandmother would go upside down for these kids.

Then there was M, what can I say about him. He was the second youngest and a total jerk. If there was ever someone I really disliked so much in my life he would be at the top of the list. He had kids later in his life. He lived with my grandmother until he got married and even after. He had two girls and a boy plus two step girls. His oldest I love dearly, probably because I took care of her.

Last was the youngest N who is closest in age with me.  She was who I wanted to be like until she got pregnant at 18. Not that having kids at that age is bad I just imagined her being the one to travel and go to school. Instead she settled and had 3 more kids. She had one girl and three boys. They were my grandmother’s favorite.

Then there was us I was the 3^rd oldest of the cousins and I have 3 brothers on my mom side and 3 siblings on my dad’s but they were not around.  We were the outcasts. Our mother was what people call the wild child. My brother was a little trouble maker and the two youngest were dealt with the pressure to fallow him. I was the one who tried to keep us together. Every uncle or aunt had something to say about us. “There mom is crazy” “something is always going on” “oh Charlie”  “when will she get it together” “they will all just end up like her” and this went on for years and years. Most of my life I ignored comments. But every Christmas the comments would slap more and more on the face. As I began to grow and understand what they meant I began to resent them.

Every Christmas I could not wait to see my cousins but I dreaded the fact that my mother would most likely disappear, and I would hear the comments. On top of that everyone’s gifts would remind us that we would not get anything from her. Lastly, I would learn that I am the most stubborn and proud girl ever. I was in 3^rd grade when I learned that I would never except a gift from anyone because they felt sorry for me or obligated. It started Christmas day that year when our mother was MIA and my grandmother gave my uncle money to buy us a gift at Walgreens the only store open on Christmas day. He came back with this little black bubble boom box. It was the size of an orange. It was like sitting in a room with tape over your mouth listening to all the bad things you could hear about your mother. So I did what any 3^rd grader would do I gave it back. Of course I was reprimanded and I had to take it; but man oh man I was mad.

After a while I did not care anymore about who or what they gave me. Instead I focused in trying to make my brothers happy. As soon as they moved in with me I began to make sure they would have almost everything they wanted. I would wrap everything for them even socks. That’s when Christmas became fun and good for me. I have never been one to ask for anything except for happiness and if you know me you know I love to make people happy. The way people smile and glow when they receive something even a flower or a smile makes me happy. Living in CT is bitter sweet. I miss my brothers, cousins and friends. I do not miss the drama. There are times I feel lonely but then again there are people that always surprise me and make me happy. In the end I learned that you make your own happiness and sometimes your family is those who put a smile on your face not always the ones you are born with.  

PS. I did not turn out like my mother or father. I am myself, I am Karla.