Querencia

The Sun rose on a fresh world. Sunflowers smiled at her face as the Sun rose higher in the sky. The daffodils and the tulips followed suit, bowing their heads in admiration towards this bright light above. The world started to wake, dogs stretching into upward and downward-facing dogs, their favorite yogic asanas. The Sun birthed heat and melted the dew from the fresh patches of grass as they swayed in the wind. The leaves danced on their branches and the sunlight twinkled on their edges. Mother Earth was calling all beings back to life to breathe, to see, to smell, and to feel the energy of peace that surrounded them, a promise that the Sun made to them from the first breath of existence. But the Earth held memories of years past, traumas past. The Earth held the tears of the life that walked on it. Mothers mourning their children, flowers yearning for bees, the grass begging for water. The Sun always knew what to say with beauty and might. But most importantly, she always kep...

I watched your shoulders relax as I came to sit next to you, running away from others who were bothering my friend and me that Wednesday evening in Kona. There you sat alone nursing your beer as I ordered another drink at the bar. My first thought was, "Wow, this guy is cute". I never thought that a connection would be created, one that would change my night and let me experience a perspective-changing moment in life. Conversation was easy. You were easy on the eyes. You were warm. You were kind. You were what I needed. And in that moment of time, we were responsible to each other, two strangers from the Bay attempting to find a connection in an uncrowded bar by the ocean. We laughed. We drank.  I sang. You were shocked. We kissed. Our body language turned into each other. I truly appreciated your presence, the way you made me feel, the way your warmth encompassed my being. There we walked on the beach, hand in hand, eyeing each other the whole way. We sat and spoke abo...

I held my breath. A burst ran through my body. My mind rewinded to 7 years ago when I held his heart and my hands and mine, his.  Beginnings are truly so beautiful. They are beautiful because they are naive, excited, invincible. I remember our beginning all too well. How we accidentally fell in love. How we promised to nurture that love. How love was not enough.  There you stood just one foot away from me. The height of 5'10'' that stood over me, that looked at me, and saw deeply through me. I knew we didn't need to say a word. The words were already being spoken through the looks we gave each other. We hadn't seen in each other in years and I stood there, breathing in seconds of our youth. I didn't know how to say what I wanted to say in the jacket that he bought when I was with him. You may fall out of love with someone, but you will always love significant loves in your life. The ones that gave you everything you needed at that time. The ones that ...

I like to preface this by saying I am not fond of my birthday. I never really have-- mostly because I feel I am a burden to be celebrated and haven't done "much" to even be celebrated for. How's that for that ugly voice in my head? Alas, the earth has rotated around the sun, and it has been another 365 of existing, surviving, and pushing through. As I look back, there are so many awesome things that have come to pass, began, ended, and continued. I took a good 4 days out in the middle of nowhere to reflect on my time with no distractions so that I can sit with myself and myself only. It's a treasure to get that time and I love making this a tradition every July 6- solo traveling. I wanted to write out the things that have come to pass in my ripe age of transition from 27 to 28. Around this time last year, I was training for my second effort for the SF Full Marathon I fell in love with someone I fell out of love with someone I continued playing volleyball...

I finally did it. I finally took that ugly brown bag of all my things that belonged to your home, which became my home for the time that it was. I finally dumped all of its contents out on my floor. I looked down at history. I looked down at our history; my history. I put this off for two weeks because well... 1. mostly I was lazy 2. eh, I don't want to deal with it 3. this is gonna bring up some emotional shit 4. fuck I remember quickly stuffing this brown bag of my things, crammed in a small space, like my heart felt that night. So here are the remnants of what once was, still laying on the floor. As I am giving more love to myself, to my close friends, to my moments, I'm past the broken promises and the sweet nothings once said, which now feel like wisps of wind. You chose to erase me from your life; I choose to celebrate and learn from it. I recycled the bag. I'm ok. I'll put away the remnants tomorrow- parts of history recycled, parts of me recycled....

How is it I try to write, but I just can't seem to get the words out that I need to? Time will heal. I am on the side of fear-- it's okay to be here. It's okay to be on the side of fear. It's okay to be on the side of pain, pain not caused by me. I hope you're okay. I hope you're happy. I hope you don't regret it because here I am regretting it for you. I hope you're not hurting. Do you see more clearly? Do you miss me? Do you miss knowing that I would love you for the total of you? Do you miss my touch? Do you miss my warmth? Do you miss saying my name?  Do you still cry for me? Do you still keep the right side of your bed empty for me? Do you still smell me on your hands? Do you look at the emptiness of your room and imagine me filling space? Were your final words a lie? Did you mean those final moments? Do you still replay that final night? Did you cry when I left? Did you cry the next night when you realized I wouldn't be back? Would you do t...

Time can be as linear as we make it to be. It starts at a point.. then it moves, but variables cause this move to be an experience different than an experience another may have. Sometimes it moves slowly, short bursts of conversation, hesitant meetings, stolen kisses that turn into sporadic touching of warm bodies, intertwined in the light of the moon, yet waking up alone in individual beds- afraid of the commitment of staying until the sun rose. Sometimes it moves in paces. Laughing moments here and there, time spent together, time spent apart, but most importantly, time spent dedicated to each other. The length of a pace is different upon the stature of the person. Therein lies some misunderstanding that may occur between the pair.  A slow response, sense of lack of interest, sense of overeagerness, time not spent together, time well spent together, and different stages of learning.  The moment we met, in that bar, on that evening, I looked at you and had no idea what ...