And then. . .

Yesterday was my first day of subbing  as a paraprofessional in a class of four autistic children ages eleven and twelve. I took the job because it runs through the end of the semester, a week from now, and I have yet to hear anything concrete from all the things I have floating up in the air. When I arrived, for a moment, I thought they were sending me to assist with the alternative kids, the assholes, that can't keep their mouths shut long enough to hear the conductor saying, "Train leaving for Loserville! Boarding begins in 5 minutes!" I gritted my teeth and hoped for the best, at least this way I could simply, "keep it real". Instead, I walked into a room with pictures taped on every surface. Pictures of what goes in the cabinets, pictures which tell you to close the bathroom door, arrows that were moved to show where the students were, and so on. The classroom included two large rooms and a kitchen. I wasn't sure what to think, until I looked at one o...

Sun. A smile with a glance. Intertwined fingers.

This past week I embarked on the grand feat of cleaning my backyard. A backyard that has never attracted me, never made me feel welcome, simply never. The landscape is a familiar one, seen here in El Paso lawns with unwelcoming sand and weeds and more sand. The yard, my yard is worse, because of a dog I inherited, a dog that I have had a hard time loving because I love cats. I love small animals that curl in my lap. Animals that I can cuddle and carry and don't knock me over or roll in dirt. But, this dog which I inherited, a Rottweiler, Luna, has begun to grow on me. I show her affection by scratching her head and giving her all the left overs that she loves so much, she runs past my scratch to savor them. Her favorite are the rib bones from Rib Hut. I'm sure that is not surprising. But, this past week, while I formed my game plan as to how I was going to clean this monster mess of a yard, Luna hung out with me. She looked on as I tried to clip the low hanging tree branche...

because sometimes we need to....

rain. clouds. overcast grey skies. a cool breeze that kisses my skin, as i stand, sinking into the million grains of sand surrounding my bare feet. in the desert, in the sun, in the snake waves of heat that seduce you from the horizon, this weather, is welcome. a smattering of rain drops gently caresses my skin, my hair, a stray lands on my lips. and i lick the sweet saltiness. savoring the taste.

the quirks that individualize us.  a beat tapped, wrapped around from index to pinky finger, as if playing the piano on a table, or counter, or .... the grin, that says everything from extreme happiness to extreme uncomfortable-ness. all teeth showing in their pearly lacquer for the world to read the shake. the quick shake of a head where fringed bangs dance and disheveled hair is styled the open hand. the gesture where a pink open palm means anything from "I don't know" to "Whatever you want." the reiterateor. when silence settles whether uncomfortable or not, he speaks, and speaks again of the same things to fill the space in between tiny bits of paper. that are eaten in between deep thoughts and conversation, balled up and inserted into the mouth mid word or sentence as if eating paper was the most natural thing. the smirk. the one that falls upon her lips when she is certain she is right, head slightly raised daring to be proven wrong.  ...