This is my handwritten note…
The one your dad used to send you from states away, the one from the grandparents that read – “I wish you the best and love you always.”
Slipped in the side is a $5 gift card for lunch with a picture of a red roof, maybe a casino chip for good luck – hamburger buns and video poker.
Let’s act like I never heard this story before.
These words echo in my mind when I write them down. It’s almost confusing to me that they make sense to anyone, but I’m the only person this really matters too.
“I’ll be on a conference call outside with two people who mean the world to me.
You might want to stay inside if you don’t want to see this, it could get ugly.”
Foreshadowing life speculators betting against percentage points.
Someone told me I could hold it together if it wasn’t broken already.
Now I’m the one left picking up the pieces of the decision you made and this just happened.
I’ll play the kid in the middle of this 8-year-old tug of war, “Sorry if I couldn’t be there for you.”
I don’t really know how I’m supposed to relate to situations I’ve never been in, it’s taken me twenty-eight trips around the sun to lose my place in line.
It’s those harsh certainties in life that are heartbreaking.
Having faith in the faithless,
Trusting in those I’ve misplaced,
Feeling hope for the helpless,
Having my beliefs manipulated into a hundred and eighty-degree reality,
A broken home, a heart stopped, a love lost, the devil in the blue dress in other room quietly waiting for you to walk thru the door…
“I’m going to leave this in God’s hands, because I obviously don’t know what I’m doing.”
“So what happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore then run?”
Big Brother is watching…
City dwelling, verve advice, wooden planks point pushing two inches on the verge of having my life change forever.
“I’ll meet you 3,000 miles away where the ocean meets the sand to talk about yesterday.”
Never mind the lonely souls altitude reeling or guilty consciences walking around an arid climate spreading rumors of a vibrant future that sounds like some place I’ll never be.
“Who’s dream am I living anyway?”
Tropical flashbacks: saloon doors, sleeping floors, bed sharing, hearing stories from those who spoke in broken English but had faith in the family structure.
I’m rolling deep on the other side – these relationships: unknown, name tag sticker prompts pulling branches off the tree to make it easier for me to climb…write my name here.
So tell me where to go because I need someone to feed me answers, a blank wall to listen to me, an empty room to make me feel at home.
This balcony’s too high for me to jump, the winds blowing too hard for this door to open, rain’s been hitting this tin roof for sometime now.
“I guess that’s what I get for heading east on this dirt road.”
Fixed in this unfamiliar space,
Displaced trying to make logical decisions off recorded history.
I’m going to go ahead and push the red button…
This youngin’s on his grind…you were always on my mind curbside reflection eternal, mountainside train rides, blanket snowstorms avalanche dodging.
“Next time you don’t want to talk to me why don’t you find a better place for me to listen.”
Audio dub breaking news, soul-searching speech therapy, parent guardian permission slips, fresh opportunities, novel challenges, and next steps.
I’m taking my talents some place I need to go, not because I want too but because life told me so.
And these days I see sounds, I find faces, I hear voices of the people, who used to know my name.
Listening to these records spinning in the valley desert sweating away the problems of my everyday…this is how I reconnect my bond with my strongest supporter.
Explaining this idea of true expression, its vehicle to set it free, what it sounds like with its soul, its verve, its life.
With these wheels circling down a lonely winding highway waiting to see if tomorrow will bring either sunshine or rainy days,
Knowing that this dream is mine to live, and that this love is ours to lose.
“Tell Dizzy I’ll show him how to play catch one day.”
Author and Photographer: Ditto Ramirez
