Skip to main content

Green

Today I painted the porch in my backyard. It is green. I didn't pick the color. Today my horoscope said green was my lucky color. I thought I would have preferred money. Even with the heat and the sweat gathering at the base of my neck, wetting my hair,  there was something soothing about rolling the paint roller up and down against the thirsty wall. With each roll and with each song I sang out of tune to myself I could feel myself making something new. I was making the dirty beige porch new, shiny, green. I was making myself new by shedding thoughts that have been rolling around in my mind for days. I was covering them over along with the beige paint.

The sun was my heated companion burning the back of my legs, leaving my calves slightly red as if they were blushing from all the attention. My shoulders ached from stretching longer than my height, longer than my reach. My hands began to shake after hours from gripping the roller, from gripping with sweaty hands and trying to hold on. Early evening came and I began to loose my companion. I knew that it was time to say goodbye. As I finished the last edges and corners I could feel the salty trail down my tired lower back. I could feel my bicep burning from the holding the weight of green paint can. And just before the sun dipped completely behind the mountain I looked at what I had accomplished. The porch was shadowed and looked a darker green, but it was shiny, new, and I had done it. Today my horoscope said green was my lucky color.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Para Las Nietas

Cuando se van las abuelitas, se va una parte fundamental. We are pulled from the brown soil. Roots exposed. We falter, droop. How can we continue without the cariño of their warm hands to support us? Nourish us con sus caricias. Cuando se van las abuelitas, se van los almuerzos y cenas que no más ellas hacían. Las comidas that tasted of their love can no longer exist. The tacos crispy and brown, won’t taste the same. The flavor, like a duende, can’t be caught no matter how hard we try to capture it in our own kitchens. Cuando se van las abuelitas, se nos va el lenguaje, porque ellas nos hablaban en español. Nuestros apodos como Güera, Prieta, Niña, Mima, y Mija se desaparecen. We ache to hear the sounds of our names from their lips and grasp for their words. The ones we didn’t know we would miss. Cuando se van las abuelitas se nos va el amor duro. We lose the sharp tongues quick with consejos we didn’t want to hear at the time. Se nos pierden los dichos and the wisdom we...

¿Y la Prieta?

My grandma, Ita, called me Prieta. She called me this because my skin is toasted brown. When I was born my mom says I was light skinned, but she knew “que iba ser morena” because the inside of my little baby thighs were already darker than the rest of me. In the sun, I turn a darker brown. I get even more Prieta. It was a term of endearment. My sister, who has a light complexion, was called guera or guerinchi. When I tell people who don’t speak Spanish what Prieta means, dark or the dark one, their eyes open wide and a small gasp escapes. I see the offense they feel for me sprinkled on their faces like the freckles I will never have. When I try to explain, the offense still shadows their eyes. That is the problem with Spanish. Wait, maybe, that is their problem with Spanish. Even when I explain, they are suspicious. Their faces ask, “Is this true?” as if I am setting them up for a joke. But how can I explain the cultural and literal meaning of a word at the same time? ...

Spring Break Lists Fall by the Wayside

This week I'm on spring break. I had many plans. I wanted to work on my book. I wanted to spring clean the house. I wanted to tackle the garage. I wanted to post and sell more things on Craig's List. I wanted, I wanted, I wanted. So, far I've checked my email, emptied my DVR, and slept. This week has been good though, hermit-ish, but good. There's something odd that happens when you allow yourself to just be. I let my brain stop dictating what I was going to do and let my body chose to sit on the couch, to take a nap, to go back to the couch. Usually, I have lists constantly running through my head. Imagine a computer updating, white texts filling up a black screen,  that is my brain adding more tasks to the queue. But, the last few days my brain has frozen and the cursor is just blinking waiting for me to hit enter, to restart. The best part is that this is very rare for me. I think it is very rare for everyone, but I recommend it. Especially at this time of year...