I love you. (how)

I love in the way the sun loved the moon…she chases him daily into the horizon until in eclipse they finally meet. Years may go by without recognition…I will love you.

I love you. (how)

I love in the way the sky loves the earth…she waters him with the tears he causes. Unrequited; undeserved. Flowers will bloom…even when you hurt me…I will love you.

I love you. (how)

I love in the way a hen loves her chicks…she fiercely guards them; their life is precious. Tenderness gives way to ferocity if threatened.

I will guard you…I will love you.

I love you. (how)

I love in the way a dog loves her master. She licks his face after he’s left her alone all day. Innocent trust, enthusiastic affection, adamant loyalty. Even if your heart forgets me…I will love you.

I love you. (how)

I love in the way a verb adds movement to a sentence. I love you as an action and state of being. I will help you and ground you. I will make sense of your world…I will love you.

I cry myself to sleep sometimes because of other people’s pain. No one will ever know. It’s not because I can’t be honest or vulnerable. It’s because I hold other people’s pain and my own could hurt you. So I cry myself to sleep sometimes. It’s the only time I can. The walls in my room know. They've watched me noiselessly scream.

I cry myself to sleep sometimes but I wake up and dress myself in a smile, ’cause joy is a medicine and pain is a wound…my wound. I won’t let it wound you. I say prayers and write songs to release the tension in my brain. And I cry myself to sleep sometimes with the tears of the ones I love.

I cry myself to sleep sometimes and I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could forget that my choices have consequences for others too but I can’t. So I’m hear writing to the air and only God can hear. It’s a comforting thought. He restores my heart and rests my soul each night. And I wake up ready to give. You take my joy and I leave with your sorrows because I don’t have to keep them. I can lay them at His throne.

I cry myself to sleep sometimes and you might say it’s my own choice to walk alone and it is. But I carry secrets…some heavy and that’s a burden I can’t share. God made some people for such a time as holding others up when they're lost or broken even if they won’t remember or reciprocate. It’s actually a blessing cuz I’m forced to rely more heavily on the author of life.

I cry myself to sleep sometimes but as long as you need me I’ll be here. And no I’m never mad. I love you.

He´s startled awake by a nightmare. Ghosts drift into his room to tear at the open gash in his chest. Love, family, childhood all snatched away like toys thrown out by a careless mother. Red spills from his wound. It‘s the color of the sunsets he watched as the sun disappeared behind a war-torn horizon. Recollection stabs at his soul, startlingly accurate in its thrusts. Every night he battles demons: Hate, fear, death, and war. They attack from every side. They know where he is vulnerable. They never let him forget. Terror grips him as his heart is ripped from his chest…again. Mutilated by memories he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. She sits up beside him. She takes his hand in hers; anchoring him to reality. Her soft words stitch the tear in his heart. A kiss brushes away the blood. She takes out her sword…he would not be alone. These flashbacks would burn and they would dance on the wreckage.

I have two friends…Reality and Fantasy. I’ve grown up with both. Let me start by telling you about Fantasy. He‘s fun; full of life! Dull days are breathtaking when he’s around. A little manipulative and over bearing but I can deal with that…he makes me happy. It’s an odd relationship, I love him and yet cry myself to sleep at night. He‘s full of promises; so many false hopes. It’s an exciting life! Always up then down. Nothing is ever constant. He’s such a beautiful lie I keep telling myself will one day come true, one day stick around, one day be real. Fantasy is like the pink gas clouds you see in movies. Gently overwhelming a person. Confusing them into oblivious sleep. Yeah it’s a little intoxicating. You dream of a journey you’re sure you finished but wake up at the start line. Temporary bliss.

Reality? Well she’s something else. Like a slap in the face...but somehow refreshing after all the lies. I get so stuck in my head with Fantasy. She tells the truth as it is. Straight facts. Between you and me I’m not sure she’s ever heard of the phrase, “let me down slowly.” She means well. *shrugs* Somehow after a day of disappointments Reality assures me there’s another day. I get to try again. Instead of expecting a dream I can live…in real life. Races aren’t as simple as in dreams but I can actually make progress. Fun…isn‘t the word I’d use to describe her but constant is. She’s always there like the sun at the beginning of the day and the moon at night. If Fantasy is like a sleeping gas the Reality is like a glass of cold water. A rude awakening but welcome rescue.

Which would I rather? Fantasy and his beautiful lies…or…Reality and her harsh truth. In all honesty I will stick with Reality. She doesn’t get enough credit. Stoic and Rough as she is, she also has many hidden beauties and pleasures. Am I going to get dump Fantasy. No! Cuz what’s Reality without a bit of dreaming?

I walk into a room, ready to dodge bullets, my shields up in every place. I duck behind fake smile; a different persona for every time we speak. Why? Because I can’t let you know me; I’ve hidden the real me so deep I barely know her…if I let her reappear…

Afraid of disappointing I try to be everything but i still have nothing to show. Resigned to this darkness ’cause i don’t believe there is love for me anymore. But this act it so tiring! Hiding my heart made it rot and I’m scared…

Would you take my heart and squeeze it? Take my soul and tear it to pieces? Dissecting me to find the scars that no one sees! It’s all carefully hidden away ’cause I can’t go through all that pain again so hard as it is I’ll keep playing this game of hide and seek.

Exhausted I look at the sky ’cause more than i want to hide…I want to be known; I want to be loved; I want to be free…I want to be done with this pointless game.

You say you’ll take my heart and heal it. You’ll take my soul and mend all the pieces. You’ve already seen the scars I hide away…you died so I won’t have the pain! You open your arms and welcome me; say here you are part of my family! I don’t have to fight for acceptance! I don’t have to play this game of hide n seek!

Startled, awakened from a nightmare! Ghosts from the past come back to haunt him. He shivers even though the night is warm. Would these memories ever die? Love and family; taken; replaced by pain and anguish. The concentration camps are black marks on the purity of his childhood. Stone after stone lifted for no purpose. Jew was synonymous with death. The star of David, a curse, marking him for slaughter. No hope.

Lost in thought, he listens. He hears breathing beside him, his precious wife. He closes his eyes in peace. Wounds would heal. Memories would die. There is hope!

Mathias is a 5-year-old little moppet, small for his age, with sandy brown hair mantling his round head. Inset there like stones are eyes the color of pewter curtained by dark lashes which put a new meaning on the term windows to the soul. Inside his soul are planted perseverance and concentration for anything he puts his mind to. He is diligent, precise, and careful. As the youngest child in the Robles family, he often has to entertain himself alone. One of his favorite pass times is floor puzzles.

After waking up and dressing in an insect-printed t-shirt (often pants are entirely forgotten) he rifles through two cabinets stuffed with all sorts of puzzles. Upon choosing the specific one he desires he dumps the pieces onto the tile floor and begins turning them over. Most people do puzzles quietly, engrossed in connecting one piece to another. However, lost in his own world Mathias wiggles his fingers together rapidly moving his little hands up and down. “Booshes” are heard as he articulates sound effects for the characters in the puzzle. Random squealing, humming, and other odd noises are all part of the operation.

If you happen to pass him while he is spewing saliva in his excitement you will receive one of two facial expressions. The first is Mathias’s exaggerated smile. This smile is always contagious and will probably end in a giggle. Starting at the corner of his lips the smile spreads up to his eyes causing them to disappear under smile wrinkles that look like the tail of a peacock. All his teeth show and his nose scrunches up into a button. Of the two expressions, this is the most desirable.

The second appearance is a side-long glance that makes you want to laugh until you cry or crawl into the floor. His eyebrows move simultaneously toward the middle of his forehead. His eyes emit a glare that seems to verbalize his disturbance. The corners of his mouth turn down into a semi frown and his head is cocked to one side. If he could maintain this visage for more than a few seconds he would appear menacing but it always melts into a silly smile and he resumes his task.

Mathias’s puzzle-making never ends with the first puzzle; the process continues until he has conquered at least four. The little lad just continues his booshing, wiggling, and squealing. When he has completed as many puzzles as he had aimed to finish, he circles the masterpieces with pride. Never wanting to destroy his handiwork he does not clean up and put away the puzzles until the end of the day. As his big sister, I know that it won’t be long before he is on the floor again dressed in another shirt and probably no pants booshing away puzzle after puzzle.

A dark night. Pitch black, suddenly broken by lurking lights. Searching…for him.

Luis hid in the brush, eyes closed. He was invisible as long as he stayed still. Finally, the search ended. The border patrol left, but Luis wasn’t safe. His water supply had depleted.

Dire thirst!

He crossed the border. Splash. A puddle. Dirty, but still water! Life-saving; life-taking? He drank.

An apartment. People like sardines. Desperate! So sick. Convulsing, hallucinating, sweating. From the source of life to the brink of death. Recovered!

A knock! Discovered! Illegal! A 10-minute ride undid a 2-day journey.