January 12, 2006

Today

I slept for hours 11 of them and woke up to bi lingual cartoons and paper bag crinkling. The sounds of my home, I couldn’t tell if it was my mother or my father, their love has deepened to the point of one sound. I turned on the computer to catch the newness of blogs and otherwise, the icons jumping for attention as they clue in, there was nothing, do I not read enough? Do I not write enough? The pictures tell my recent tale, I drink enough. The cleaning lady shows, I wish I could close my door with my mind instead my mother comes into to take a nap while they clean the rest of the house, I turn off my secret friend and watch unsolved mysteries. It used to scare me as a child but I was addicted at an early age and now I try to catch to episodes between classes and in the hot comfort of my home bed. Through her snoring I read my book of angels and teacup hearts while Robert Stack’s familiar voice narrated tragedies. My book brings new freedom, I want to dance more, to those songs I downloaded but have never heard of, they must have some kind of dancing worthy meaning, I want to go on a run and spin in circles with my face turned towards the sun. Choosing happiness because I can’t have everything I want, molding what I’ve got and saying I love you to friends who matter. She caught me off guard and I had to ask her to repeat herself, “I love you” and she laughed, I reciprocated. They are surprising me but they aren’t going away, they aren’t trading me in for an older version of myself and I am slowly finding solace in the fact that they are my friends when I feel like I have none.

2 comments:

Doug The Una said...

Very pretty prose, Rio. It''s nice to see some sunlight reflect from your eyes.

Cooper said...

Nice stuff.
"I couldn’t tell if it was my mother or my father, their love has deepened to the point of one sound. "

excellent line.