And then. . .

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.  ...

I walked slowly down each aisle. The many petals open, worshiping the sun, danced in the light breeze that came off the mountains. Outside in the open air of the nursery I breathed in the mingled scents that emanated from all the greenery around me. Rows of passion red, dusky lavender, and blush pink flowers looked up at me as if saying, "Take me home! Take me home!" I lingered a moment in front of the morning glory's and smiled. The memory of summer mornings on my grandma's porch came to mind. The air smelled like the coming heat, musky, with a hint of freshness as the morning glory's and coral vine that covered the outside of her house opened, and were able to breathe a breath of fresh air, like the rest of us, before the heavy heat set in. "Mira," my grandma would say, "te estan diciendo buenos dias." I didn't know then that after a morning glory blooms it dies. Looking down at them I remembered those mornings before school, my gra...

i woke. i didn't know why, but grew conscious  in the change of my breathing, a change that had not yet occurred in the blurry figure next to me. i blinked, listened to the even sound of his breath, in and out, in and out, a light snore punctuating the end of each exhale. i didn't want to move. if i moved the moment would be over. what this moment was I wasn't sure, but i drank in the details. the curling hair on the nape of his neck, the small brown mole on his ear, the texture of his skin, taunt. his back moved with each inhale naked against me. my arm twitched, wanting to move, but i breathed in deeply and refrained. my breath louder to me now that it moved at a quicker pace, echoing in the brightly sunlit room. even in my stillness something was noted by him though, and he began to shift. don' turn, not just yet . i wound my arm around him, my hand against the warmth of his stomach, his back pressed against my breasts. he pulled at my hand with his, we were looped,...