Me

Growing up

Growing up Mexican
You always have Valentina
Growing up Mexican
Music is in your blood
Growing up Mexican
Watching telenovelas is a must
Growing up Mexican
You hardly ever wear black
Growing up Mexican
Your mom braids your hair with bolitas
Growing up Mexican
You eat jalapeños since the day you can eat real food
Growing up Mexican
Pickled Patas de puerco are delish
Growing up Mexican
There is no waiting for later, you do it today
Growing up Mexican
Chile with mangos in the summer are a treat
Growing up Mexican
You hide under the bed to eat blocks of Abuelitas chocolate
Growing up Mexican
You enjoy others treasures at the flea market
Growing up Mexican
Your best friends name is llennifer but really it's Jennifer
Growing up Mexican
Fútbol is the only sport that exists
Growing up Mexican
On the other side of the border is strange.
Growing up Mexican
you get over it because you know the US has more opportunities
Growing up Mexican
Then one day you grow up and the whole time it was you

Growing up.

 

by Karla

We Hold On

We hold on

We hold on to things all the time. Some of the things we hold on to are objects, some are feelings, memories, but they all have touched our lives in different ways. There is always a reason we hold on, I’d say it’s mostly the feeling you felt in that exact moment. If I ever eat something way to spicy I think of my mother and the fact that when she was upset it would translate in her food. Her salsa was always extra spicy when she was upset but we only had one choice we would eat or not.

I’m 28 years old and I have held on to many feelings, smells, memories and even clothes and it wasn’t until I met a boy who always asked me “why”. He had the answer, but he forced me to think more about. See, I keep every piece of clothing in my closet for years hoping that I won’t lose that feeling. I have a pair of sweat pants my mother had given me and I could not get rid of because I could feel her hugs in them. When I moved from California to Connecticut I found myself bringing all kinds of things that I had accumulated over the years that reminded me of all the pains I have been through.

When I got married at 21 years old I wanted to start over but it was something I could not do, at least not then. For four years I battled letting go of my life, and my past. Instead of facing it I kept it in, unable to share with the person that I shared my life with or with anyone for that matter. I dissolved the marriage. I spent 3 months contemplating on feelings that I had never had before.  I began therapy and emotions began to drown me.

During the same period the boy continued to challenge me along with changing me and at some point hurting me. At times, I can feel that pain but mostly I try to let go. During two and a half years of learning I came out with one thing - I could sit here wanting, not allowing and letting myself drown or I could move forward. There was a point where he had made me feel like no one could ever hurt me again, but that is not the case because he did. In order to grow you have to feel, you have to let go and only keep what really matters.

After my divorce, I ended up with an old window that was going to the garbage from his grandmother’s house and that was pretty much it. It was that same window that allowed me to let go. I was moving again and yes, I took the old beat up window with me. It’s a reminder that I sometimes have to allow myself to be transparent and that at times you have throw out old things and let the new come in.  In my move I gave lots away. I got rid of my prom dresses, wedding dress, and that boy’s T-shirts that kept me hung up on him. When I think of that pink prom dress I think my first love. When I think of the wedding dress I think of growing up. When I think of all those T-shirts I think of how he made me feel. Now they are memories which I will keep but I no longer have to carry on my shoulders. I’m no longer defined by those things.  I use to think I was unique but I was like everyone else. I may not be as different now but I know I can let go.

New memories await new stories, laughs, smiles, cries, love, new shirts, dresses and entries to new windows.  To that boy, I kept everything because they use to make me but not anymore “I make myself”.

Sickened

Sickened by your gaze, I fall

Touched by your kiss, I respire

Like the wind blowing it disappears

So soft and reckless

It all turns black

Dark like the street with no lights

Like a blind person waiting to see

The vision dissipates  

Leaving me crumbs, just enough to come back

Then you shout and scream without a word, go away!

Knowing it’s bad, like a kid hypnotized by a toy  

Except, I don’t cry, no I don’t, not anymore

It just aches likes the piano, every key

Sinking like a battleship, I drown

You, nowhere to be found

Gasping for your hand you turn your back

You’ve moved on, or have you?

Why?

Like a fool at a magic show, waiting for the secret

It’s in front of me but I refuse to believe

That you are a liar, a deceiving magician

Your audience observing, waiting, astonished, yet all in the same sad predicament

All sickened by your gaze

  

 

Newspaper Wings

I wanted to save the world,

I did, really

I would walk down the streets on my way to school and pick up trash; I would talk to the trees

I would help anyone with anything

In fourth grade, wait or maybe fifth grade, no; no it was fourth grade when I was an earth angel

Newspaper wings, it was noble, it really was, the notion of saving everyone

I could fly!

I wanted to save the world, earth, my mother and brothers

I would stay up late and cry at “The Save a Child for a dollar a month” ads or when I would watch the news

Five in the morning watching Univison all the disasters, pain and suffering  

I could feel the hurt, oh my brain, it hurt deep in my heart

I was lucky living in a closet, I was thankful leaving in a car or at the park, or in a shelter, a rest stop, it did not matter lived in America the land of prosperity

Even thought, I found out one day, that day, that I could only save me and take care me too make the world a better place. The harsh truth that there was very little I could do, I did not cry.

I could never forget….

I made this world a better place.

With a smile, a hug and or energy

Being friendly and being there for anyone that needs me, and volunteering and speaking

I may not ever be Mother Teresa or Gandhi, and or even Jesus  

I make a difference

I wanted to save the world, I did, I did!

I wanted to carry them

They carried me, they saved me, and they made me

I saved the world!

Love Translation and Old

It had been three days since she had left

It took three to realize she was gone

It was normal for her to be gone

On the fourth day the landlord came knocking on our door

You have 30 days to leave..What?

Your mother never paid the rent

I was used to her not being there for my awards, for my soccer games, holidays, or anything important

I was not surprised

She had left me alone many times

She had left me with my aunt for a year

She had left me with my grandmother for three years

I gathered my stuff and moved in with my other family

I worked every day and tried going to school.

Walking and taking the bus

I would sleep at rest stops if it got too late because I was too embarrassed to go to what was my home at the time

Other times my boyfriend and I would sleep in the car outside a Home Depot.

Every day without fail my grandmother would call

She would call because yes, she had left my brothers with her

Every day, every day, every day, something was wrong

They did not do their homework

They did not clean their room

They did not, not, not, not, not!!!

I could only take so many nots! I wanted to choke myself or run away.

Instead I got an apartment-- moved in with my boyfriend and took them with me.

How would I manage? What if they are bad? What if you make a mistake? What if? I asked

Everyone was waiting for me to fall, to fail, to cry

9 years later I would

All the feelings I never felt came out the day I met him

I gave him all --he took it all

It was my choice

I felt what love was, I let the wall down

Then one day during my therapy session after he had shattered my heart she asked, how did you feel when she left?

For the first time ever I could feel what I never felt then

Someone had left me and I finally knew what it really felt like

Did I not love her? Or was I just numb from all her shit?

I wanted to be protected; I did not want him to leave

I had allowed him to see, see me for who I was

He was the first person to care that I had been raped

He was the first person to tell me no one would ever hurt me again

He was the first one to peel the paint away

He was the first to tell me I was beautiful

The first to make me feel great about sleeping naked

The first to say he was proud

The first to not judge me

He was the first to really fight against my stubbornness

He would not take no for an answer, he would not ask… he would just help

He was the first orgasm and the first to say good-bye

The first to say he would always be around

The first to not put up with my shit

One day he left and I wanted to die

I cried and wanted fly; I wanted to burst into air

The pain came, I could not breathe and I could not speak

Only to realize that I could feel

I was alive and it made me afraid

I was not dead

It’s not that I did not love her

I just did not know how to feel

My instinct was to protect

My feeling was to love them

To help them, not show emotion because to them I was the strong one

I was the smart one; I was the one to keep it together

I no longer had them to protect

No more being strong

No one to take care of

Alone with my thoughts

Alone with my fear

It was me, myself and I

What I should have felt I had neglected

I had suppressed

I had been too fuckin’ angry to care

Not anymore!

Now I was too fuckin’ scared and all I could do is cry and be sad

Then again the sadness turned into anger and the anger turned into madness and when I was done crying it turned into strength

The strength turned into loving me

And then turned into being a bit selfish, learning what I want, accepting who I am,

Making choices for me not for them

I broke the chain, no longer captive

It turned into freedom

Free at last he said free

Happy V-Day!!!

 

When I was in 4th grade I knew, I really knew I would marry Francisco, except it did not happen.

 The school I was at had a program that had third and fourth graders together. In my class was a third grader named Miguel and soon I would find out that his brother was Francisco. Francisco was in 5^th grade but on the second day of school in the hallway I noticed him. He was so handsome with his light brown hair combed to the side and his green eyes. He walked past me and it was then I knew he was the one. I was smitten by Francisco. Every day I would watch him play soccer and everyday Miguel would serenade me in class. He would sing songs by Enrique Iglesias. He would sing so much the teacher would have to tell him to stop. I guess to Miguel I was the one. On Valentine’s Day that year the unexpected happened. The 5^th grade kids walked into every class and gave us candy and who would give me a lollypop but the one and only Francisco.

As I received the lollypop I turned so red I could have passed out he had taken my breath.  Janet was one of my friends in elementary school that could not keep her mouth shut. She shouted from across the room “Karla loves Francisco”!! I wanted to run. In that moment Miguel looked at me like I had done something to him, more like I had ripped his heart out and put in a blender and had it for breakfast. Oh, the terror. I could not say a word, yes I was speechless.

My secret had been revealed and I had destroyed Miguel’s heart all because someone had to say something. From that day on Miguel would only sing songs of broken hearts and I could no longer sit and watch Francisco play soccer but I was the happiest girl on earth. Yes, I was the happiest because if I had held that secret forever I would have exploded and what happened next would not have happened.

The last day of school I began my journey to the back exit of the school and when I got to the end, there he was, Francisco. He said hello and walked me home. It was the sweetest walk of my fourth grade history or my elementary life. He was not the one but I could never forget that walk home.

The next year I saw Miguel but he was no longer in love with me.

Some endings don’t have to be fairytale endings just sweet.