goodnight my sweet

coconut summer

sitting in a bar that looks like a vacant apartment

drinking gin and tonics and cheap beer

dancing to blues and soul on an empty dance floor

tangled tresses blow across our glistening faces

we laugh and ride home together

a series of blinking lights, red and white

our voices echoing through the empty 4am streets

the gravel becomes an iridescent river of pebbles

our shadows take turns leading the pack

i climb the three flights of stairs to my silent apartment

crossing the 15 foot stretch of creaky wooden planks to my bed

i crawl under the sheets in my dress, sweaty and tired

and dream of long days and unexpected nights

as birds chirp outside my window

happy birthday papa ruiz

for hope and wings

graceful today

a friend once told me that if you focus on all of the things beyond your control, the things that don't quite go your way, you'll eventually miss out on the subtleties that truly mean the most. when i got out of bed this morning, i made a promise to myself to focus on the positive, the unexpected, the things that matter.

i spent the day with my father and talked to him as if it were the last day i would ever talk to him. i expressed my fears and my secrets, and it was perfect and amazing. we connected in a way that we haven't connected in a long time, laughing over french fries and diet cokes. i hugged my mother for a long time and promised to bring her my homemade coconut cookies. i challenged myself and ran four and a half miles. i poured over family albums and saw how much we've changed over the years, how much i've changed. i sat at a coffee shop by myself and read. i like this life, even if i don't get everything i want. i thought about the things that matter to me and the things i need to work on, in order to continue to grow through honesty, gratitude, and acceptance.

i'm enjoying the process of getting older. i am no longer who i was one year ago. i feel more like myself than i have in a long time. tonight, i will wear a pretty dress and go out dancing.

writing takes me to a different place

the build up - lasted for days, lasted for weeks, lasted too long...

i never really had you

just kind of grazed your skin with my fingers for a while

drank black coffee out of your mugs

walked barefoot through your cave

and then you disappeared

into the upper peninsula of your thoughts

never really held your hand

other than behind closed doors

or kissed you on a busy street corner

or called you sweetheart

living the dream

a friend once told me

a surreal kind of like, or lust, or love

a calculated balance of the aforementioned

i guess it was a dream

i did never really live it

active recovery

running with good friends

cooking up an impromptu breakfast feast

baking with newfound kindred spirits

drinking pints of water with floating bits of lime

taking in anthony bourdain's wit through his pages

painting my toenails purple with shaky hands

sneaking a peach smoothie into a dark theater

catching up with old friends over sandwiches at the pick me up

riding my bike home late at night

sleeping in my bed all alone

hot dogs and sparklers

you tell me

the overhead announcements

are blaring through the speakers

i sit in the train station

alone

waiting

the el map in my hand

a wrinkled mess

just like me

this should have been resolved yesterday

when you invited me to sit with you and talk

we did and it was refreshing

just to see your face

at first

i could not get my footing

but i climbed

over the walls i set up

joined you on the other side

immediately

a weight was lifted off my shoulders

we laid our cards out on the table

i was ready to make my move

you needed more time

fear and trepidation

littered across your face

patience

i gave you a day

...

you need one more

...

and another

...

patience

should i wait for the inevitable

that last minute phone call

before you ride away to the midwest

that

strained

voice

on the line