Closing Doors

I have poured my heart into this blog. When I started it in 2012, I called it Crossing Borders because I was abroad, but I knew that beyond my experience abroad I would want to continue blogging. I changed the title to “Junior year abroad and beyond” when I returned state side and continued to feel passionate about writing. It has been three wonderful, emotional, and developmental years. However, with every beginning comes an end and this post marks the closing doors of Crossing Borders. This is not to say that I will stop writing or that the growth ends; however, this blog’s end of life has arrived. Thank you to anyone who ever took the time to read my thoughts and I hope that there was something you could take from it. And I leave you with a little excerpt…

What have you learned? She asked me. “A lot. And certainly a lot more than expected. With time and upon reflecting, there will be much more to take from it too.” My boxes were packed, my suitcase was zipped and I was ready for another adventure. Where are you going? I’m not entirely sure, but I know with whom I am going. I’ll call it home because it will feel like it finally. The sun shined on my hair and warmed my skin as I sat on the patio and took a deep breath. Sometimes I try to steal away moments, I capture them in my memory, my heart locks to the smells and sounds, and forever I remember them. Today would be one of those days. I smiled at myself. She had taught me love, respect, and integrity: values every person should uphold. Walking away, the sand hid in between my toes and I created craters on the beach with every step. The ocean smell filled me with harmony with every breath I took and the birds danced in celebration of a new life. My royal blue dress flowed with the wind, I felt a kiss on my cheek and smirked with joy!

“Finisce sempre così. Con la morte. Prima, però, c’è stata la vita, nascosta sotto… È tutto sedimentato sotto il chiacchiericcio e il rumore. Il silenzio e il sentimento. L’emozione e la paura. Gli sparuti incostanti sprazzi di bellezza. E poi lo squallore disgraziato e l’uomo miserabile. Tutto sepolto dalla coperta dell’imbarazzo dello stare al mondo… Altrove, c’è l’altrove. Io non mi occupo dell’altrove. Dunque, che questo romanzo abbia inizio. In fondo, è solo un trucco. Sì, è solo un trucco.” – La Grande Bellezza

Comfort of an Emotional Home


Home is where the heart is. Sitting in his apartment, I could smell the incense he had burned before my arrival. There are moments I promised I would never forget and there are words that clang to my mind. Funny how you can feel love with several people, but the experience is always different. Walking beside him, hand in hand, my little heart was energized by his touch. I giggled uncontrollably, happy as could be. We sat on a bench by the river, flirty, nervous, and teasing each other. Oh a scene I used to replay in my head so many times, or the tears he saw on my face when I had left the airport, just a teenage girl then. Walking along his side I had wished to always stand beside him, oblivious that I would grow to desire someone else, but always grateful that he was the first to steal my heart.

Photographs will capture the moments you want to remember, but the heart will capture the memories a camera could never take. In my years between ages 5 and 22, I have been blessed to feel love in the deepest ways. From the rose that he broke off a bush and gave me, just a boy then, to the ferris wheel ride at the National Harbor, as adults. In the life of a Third Culture Kid, we learn to say goodbye, perhaps all too well. A smile on my face, I always knew that upon departure I could always cherish new memories that I did not have before my arrival.

As a woman with the innate desire to be a mother, I stared at him, not with pity, but with the desire to heal and protect. A heart so giving should be mended and guarded by angels; he deserved it. Perhaps I always wanted to be his silent angel to save him from his own thoughts. Or, I just wanted to be a spectator in the crowd, cheering him on as the years of life gave him patience and wisdom. To see a man I love grow beyond his perceived impossibilities would be rewarding and fascinating. On the other hand, I sit awake late in the night wondering if maybe it was me that he was trying to protect, acting as my guiding star throughout my last three years crossing borders abroad and in the homeland. His arms wrapped around me, I could have remained immobile for days at a time, in total awe of comfort. Rubbing his back in his sleep, I wished him all the peace in the world. In my 22 years of existence, I had never touched a man with such desire to protect him, my instinct as I observed him, peacefully vulnerable, was to guard him with everything I had. But we all know a heart is hard to guard and a scar heals only slowly. I never wanted to leave and giving an easy choice I would have made the capital my home.

As every TCK knows, there comes a time when the timer goes off and you depart again to another adventure: a day when you ride away into a future of spontaneity and uncertainty with a dash of hope. The moments ahead are not promised to be bright or dark, nor are they promised to exist. However, your suitcase will carry memories, the great and the regrettable, and you will use them as building blocks should the future ever come. You fly into an abyss of clouds, not all too sure if you’ll ever touch back down to the ground level or remain among the beautiful castles in the sky and sunrises above the horizon. One thing is sure, love will always feel amazing, but never the same way. Typing from a new home, I know now that life will always change and for that I am grateful. However, that said, home will always feel the same, but his arms around me may hold me differently.

Perception blinds and enlightens the eye. What beautiful juxtaposition! Love guides the mind. What an illogical decision maker! The past carries false hope. What bluntly expressed reality!

The door opened, followed by a creak, I stepped foot in a forgotten land, a foreign piece of earth. Welcome home, she said, what brings you here?

This small creation, a home with a building foundation.

The Greek Columns of Life: Passion Love Peace


Passion. A rosy color appears on your cheeks. Your body warms up. A fire sparks in your heart. The smile painted on your face depicts the intrinsic happiness you feel. In the blink of an eye, life changes. Emotions you used to feel become so foreign, yet you remember the depression well enough to know the road you walked. You’re overwhelmed with love for the moment, for the children you watch discover this world, for the people who play and laugh together, and the souls that touch you every day. You’ve felt this passion before, but it was clouded by confusion and pain for so long.

“Do you have children?” “No, I’m too young… well not really… I’m just not ready, not yet at least. Why do you ask?” He smiled at me surprised “Because every time you see a child, you light up. It’s obvious you love kids!” Day dreaming about my little human, I watched a mother carry her youngest creation on her left hip, holding the hand of her oldest in her right hand, with the middle child holding his eldest brother’s hand. It was a chain of love, a family deeply connected. She created those humans, to care and love, to help them grow and develop, I thought. Motherhood is so precious; life is mind-blowing. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This passion I feel for life fuels my every laugh, my every connection with another and my every touch.

Love. You can read it on my face from a mile away. It keeps the corner of my mouth always slightly smiling. Human interaction lights me up all too easily. Connecting with another mind fosters my love for the human, for the stories they share. Sitting by the lake, the above picture was our view. The rays floated above the water, as the sun sought to rest at peace, to rise above another world and set away from Virginia. She starred, in awe, at an event so precious and I felt my heart warm at the reminder that she was my best friend. She sat in peace, beauty radiating from her in so many ways. The thoughts she expressed moved mountains in my mind as we discussed topics in depth, an intellectual stimulation few ever gave me. Filled with love, I silently wished the absolute best for her. She deserved the world and so much more, a universe of greatness to mirror her unique mind, soul, and heart. Best friends cannot be replaced. I was reminded, she taught me to love. My mother taught me loyalty; my best friend taught me kindness, dedication, and patience.

Peace. My heart experienced an indescribable emotion cocooned by a peaceful pulse. Only seven years old, I was laying in his lap in fetus position at the large dinner party, my ear against his chest, I heard the pulse of a warrior at rest. A calming rhythm, soothing my mind, I fell into a deep quiet sleep. Never have I found the same rhythm, only his soul could create such music, but after all he was my creator, my hero, my father and he could never be replaced by another man. He was never perfect, but neither was I, and I couldn’t ignore the things he had given me in life, most of all, life itself.

Watch the sunset quietly, inhale the clean oxygen, and fall in love with the souls that touch you. Life is short, but your existence does not have to be. Find meaning, find love, and bring peace for this world. Night will fall. Your eyes will blink. Years will pass like seconds. Your time will be remembered. The last minute before you cruise to a deep sleep and world of dreams, ask yourself, “Who became better because I lived today?” People impact people.

The Wings of Life: Home


I am home. It is my place of departure and my destination. I hopped out of the vehicle, both of my feet, together, felt the impact of the concrete; my ballerina  shoes hardly provided any support. I rolled my carry-on suitcase to the familiar doors. A large sign welcomed me. This time in English, though I had seen it before in a multitude of languages from Italian to Arabic and beyond. 

The familiar sound of planes flying to the corners of this world murmured like a secret whispered in your ear. The wheels touched down to the runway, loved ones waited eagerly at the doors, business travelers met their parties and new passengers boarded. The Children played hopscotch at their gate, experiencing a world of joyful oblivion. The airport felt like my playground. I belonged. I walked down the hall to my own gate, feeling that it was the hallway to my living room. 

People left, people came. It was everyone’s temporary home. Perhaps it was home because of the common notion and culture among travelers that an airport was one stop, for a few hours, a temporary place, passing through, a hallway of life. Such location gave me comfort because I knew so well how to play the “I’m only here for a little while” game. Everyone brought their stories to their destination and packed bags of new memories, photos of unforgettable nights. The airport had an undefined location, regardless of the very real geographical coordinates. It remained a place with a similar feeling in every country or city, an island on its own, filled with culture and a link between worlds without its own true identity. 

Rolling with me, in my suitcase, was the book “Third Culture Kids: Growing Up Among Worlds.” My upbringing made the concept of home confusing and fascinating. It wasn’t a place I could point on a map, it was a feeling I had experienced in crossing oceans and flying above hills.

They announced several flights and I sat looking out the large window at the planes that glided on the concrete and flew off. The airline industry has had a consistent presence in my life from infant to child and now to adult. She was my other parent. There were many trips overseas to visit extended family. There were many bags packed and heavy carry-ons when we moved continents. Flights were taken from and to college, until the very last one the day of graduation. Airports had witnessed my running record to connecting flights. Planes had taken me to the countries where I had decided to study new cultures, people, and languages during my junior year, which marks the birth of this blog. For every time I transitioned to a new stage in my life, to meet a new family of friends and discover a new piece of this world, a plane always welcomed me home. With a great supply of tissues for my tears, my trip was filled with sad songs of many languages and great encounters with strangers who shared wisdom and inspiration with me. My seat neighbors, of all ages, gave me laughter, motivation and helped me grow. I was reminded that travel was life, that the next corner of this world was filled with people just as wonderful. 

The flight attendants have witnessed my excitement for a new country, my grief for friends lost, and my tears after a painful goodbye to my parent or siblings. I have ran in the halls to catch the plane, out the doors to be welcomed with an embrace, and through security to deliver a forgotten letter and one last goodbye. I have locked myself in the restrooms on the plane, unable to understand the English words written on the door. I’ve even lost one of my baby teeth sitting in the aircraft seats. The flight attendant became my parent, advising me to rinse my mouth with cold water and helped preserve my teeth of innocence. 

Years ago, as a child, I personally delivered a drawing to the pilot. He promised to hang it up on the wall alongside the art pieces his children had made for him. Somewhere in the world, I wonder if that sheet of paper is clinging on to a small piece of tape, perhaps with some creases where it was once folded. What had I even drawn for him?

“I just boarded the plane,” a familiar message I have sent via text for so many years. “Well done!” Encouragement from my mother even though I’ve been flying for 22 years. I am leaving Washington D.C. Airport to my other home. As long as I live, the runways will be my driveway home, the restaurants at the gates will be my kitchen, the seats in the aircraft will be my bedroom, and my gate will be my living room. I live among worlds but I am only at home when I am traveling between them. As my mother called them, the wings of life….


An Earthquake Shaking the Mind’s Ground Zero: What is Real?

The first letter on a blank page is sometimes the hardest one to trace. Overwhelmed with emotions, thoughts so powerful your fingers begin to surf the keys of your laptop. Your eyes look for clarity and find the irony of smoke from the incense, straight up to the ceiling at first glance, gradually transforming to curls of chaos before reaching its destination. Your ear drums soothed by guitar and soft voices. You look up to see the smoke dance around your head like a discreet child trying to make you smile. The smell soothes your open wound.

Sometimes reality is hard to conceptualize. On the train tracks of your own train, do you ever question everything you never questioned? Are you truly happy or do you pretend to be, so well that you begin to believe it? I stopped believing in justice a long time ago, maybe when I gave up my dream to become an attorney, and I came to the realization that life is just life. The wind blows and dominoes collapse, a car speeds into another and two lives are lost, a wave rises too high and takes a village. It isn’t about being positive or negative, but about accepting the existence of all without judgement.

On a personal level, author Ruiz will make the argument that we are perfect just the way we are and when we change, it is to express the love we feel for ourselves. Change is not a prerequisite to self-love. The same concept applies to life, death, and all that comes in between. He preaches intrinsic value without using the term. You love you, why? Because you are you. You were part of a tragic episode? You take the experience and let it fuel spiritual growth.

Why mention justice? It is only too often that we hear someone protesting “it’s unfair!” Yes, I say we, because you and I are not all too different. People want to belong, “we” expresses that I accept you within my thought process as an audience and as another mind exploring these thoughts I share. As a reader, you come closer to my mind and heart than some people I see every day.

Look up! Red light blinds your eyes. Foot on the brake pedal. Abrupt stop. Let your mind go blank, your lungs fill with a sigh of surprise, and the adrenaline pump through your veins. Remember, accidents are by nature unpredictable. Distractions on the road can be fatal. Along the same logic, lack awareness in present moments and your life will pass you by. “Death isn’t sad. The sad thing is that most people never live at all” (Dan Millman).

Back to the subject at hand. Do you practice your wisdom? Writers know very well how to preach. Deep down in your heart you may choose to agree with me (or even disagree) on the existence, (or nonexistence), of pure justice. You may have other beliefs or standards. Do you ever question them? Do you ever contradict your words with your actions? We are emotional bodies, not always logically synchronized with our beliefs.

I didn’t protest, “it’s unfair,” I didn’t think it either. Instead, this time, I just thought “it’s unfortunate.” My heart felt the similar pinch and I sighed in disappointment. How could one person take everything you ever thought to be true and make you question your self image, the one thing you are suppose to confidently know? There is nothing more powerful than the words of someone who knows the strategy to manipulate the thoughts that create your reality. The mind is founded on a belief system, but even the hardest soil can be shattered by an earthquake.

They say words only weigh as heavy as you let them, yet how much power do you really have? He accused me of being incapable to love. Used a metaphor here and there, in between expressed that “maybe your narcissistic tendencies and BPD will forever mask who you truly are.” Yet reassured me that “we are at peace.” An email sent from an account that has now been deleted. I could not have replied if I tried. Message delivery error. I paused, before letting a wave of emotions take over, placed my feet back in the present moment, “I am happier today than I was months ago.” That realization alone gave me peace to admit that his words had only one purpose, make me feel belittled. My best friend laughed as his ridiculous statements, rolled her eyes at his attempt to once again hurt the person he has claimed to love. I felt relief that all communication bridges had been burned to pieces and drowned in the dark river of yesterday.

A peaceful separation only because I made a commitment to myself, to love the breaths and gifts I was given. Without a tear of goodbye because my life is better without someone manipulating my emotions. However, I also finally understood the fear that creeps up. I am not afraid to love, nor to trust another with my heart, I am only fearful that my mind may lack the clarity to distinguish reality and misconceived conceptions of others or those he made me believe.


It was 2010, I was carrying a moving box. My mom and my sister were laughing about the crazy road trip to Virginia. The sky was a bright blue and the sun shone happiness into the souls of the anxious freshmen moving in. “You know, you’re going to change a lot these next few years… you’ll wake up one day and be so surprised by how different you used to be,” my sister had preached to me. I smiled with pride and naively disregarded her claim. I knew who I was, that wouldn’t change. Or so I thought. Stubborn, I remained. Determination never left my personality traits.

September 2010, late evening, it was dark. “I’ll do it if you do it,” I said. We smiled at each other and headed to the college’s lake. “Who goes first?” “I’m ready” “Oh wow that was fast” “I’m jumping in!” Laughter traveled through the Virginian trees as the cold water gave us chills everywhere. We were free mermaids with our partners loving our spontaneity. The inner tube as our only cover, perhaps clothes would have kept us warmer.

September 2012, 6:00 A.M. The music was blaring into my soul, the multicolored lights danced with the drunks, and I smiled in ecstasy. Spain was exactly what I had desired, freedom, Spanish music, and charming men. He twirled me like it was the last dance of our life. I closed my eyes to feel every sensation… The joy of being single never felt more refreshing.

April 2013, early morning, the sun peeked from under the ocean and the waves calmed the earthquakes from my internal struggles. A tear escaped my eyes and I slowly smiled. God always knew that beauty brought me peace. On the north tip of Africa, I knew the air was magical, something about the Mediterranean gave writers inspiration and lovers hope. Tunisia’s all-encompassing beauty gave travelers an experience that the lens of their camera couldn’t capture, but that would never leave the depths of their heart.

January 2014, we were covered up in gloves, scarf and heavy coats. Laughing so hard, I couldn’t help noticing her beauty. She was a pure soul, my best friend. “You lean on me and I lean on you,” we had said to each other. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” we had repeated. Skiing down the snowy slope, she looked behind to make sure I wasn’t rolling like a snow ball. The sun was setting, God painted the sky pink and orange. Giggling, we stopped at the bar for a shot and hot chocolate.. how classy! We were nervous that our university’s outdoor program would catch us. Creepy guy whispered “I like your style,” we looked at him, and turned back to the bar laughing. Skiing tipsy is off my bucket list.

May 2014, a windy bright morning. I held my diploma in my hands, honor cords around my neck and cried like a child leaving her mother the first day of kindergarten. The last day is just as overwhelming and scary as day one. We shared tears in the midst of laughter at our silly sensitivity. I knew I hadn’t loved a friend so deeply, she had been my sister, my psychologist, my partner in crime, and I had given her the deepest parts of my heart and shared the most profound thoughts. Friendship is peaceful. Love is sweet.

February 2015, a cloudy morning in Texas. I sat typing at my computer. John Mayer sang “Daughters,” I sat cuddled in my jacket. Comfort, peace, soothing music… Art communicates so much. It wasn’t just his words, but also the acoustics. The sensations, the memories, like a flash in a movies. A moment before your life ends, clips of the best and worst moments. Climatic. I sat, heart broken, how crazy to see my life unroll chaotically, my internal avalanche. My best friend as my constant. The sun as my point of reference. Never undermine our similarity to snakes. We wear many skins over the years. Today I hardly know who I am. Tomorrow, I hope to be a pianist, a writer, a salsa dancer, an entrepreneur, and fluent in five languages. Until tomorrow arrives, my motto is Do Something Every Day to be One Step Closer to Your Dreams.

Life will flash in front of you if you don’t seize the moment.

No Regrets, Just Pure Freedom

They say to never regret a thing because given what you knew and who you were at the time, you wouldn’t have done it any other way. If it felt right, if you followed your heart, then you’re doing just fine. If it didn’t feel quite right and you steered away, well done! Your future self will high five you. We dodged that bullet.

Life was never meant to be easy. Mountains will rise up in front of you, create obstacles you must overcome. You’re supposed to climb and fight. Anything worth fighting for is worth having, they say, including self respect and happiness. At times it will be foggy and dreary, the lack of visibility will have you wonder what the future holds. However, one thing is true, you are the one driving to your own destiny. You’ll be influenced by loved ones and others in your life, but ultimately the choice is yours. Every single choice…. Is yours… The awareness of such control is both terrifying and liberating.

In retrospect, I have no regrets. I’ve been loved and hurt, but the pain always made the love sweeter. I’ve grown to be grateful for every minute others give me. You never know when the doctors may announce he has cancer, or the police announce she died within seconds after the collision. People make me happy. Death makes me grateful for life.

I won’t forget looking into his eyes and just feeling a dark presence, like it wasn’t right at all. Call me Olivia Pope but my gut has yet to prove me wrong. My heart had been torn so many times I could no longer trust. But then I almost did, until the feeling crept up and a voice whispered “don’t do it.” So I listened. I followed my heart as it has never led me down the wrong path. Something’s you have to learn and they are painful too, but meant to happen nonetheless.

I’ll also never forget flying to Washington DC to see a man I have considered my best friend for over two years now. I literally escaped the darkness to walk into the brightest light and most positive energy. The way he held me was different, so passionate. It was peaceful and loving. Something I had been lacking when I was sinking into an emotionally abusive relationship. The way he kissed me after we made love reminded me that such sweetness existed in life. The giggling until my cheeks hurt and the intellectual conversations filled my heart with life. It wasn’t a relationship, but the interaction was full of love. We just cared for one another and we treated the other with respect and a desire to make each other smile.

You can do without some people in your life. It’s not hard to justify if they don’t treat you right. It’s simple. You’re worth more. But there are few souls that capture your heart and you cannot let go despite another man trying to steal you away, you are frequently reminded of who really has your heart in their back pocket.

Given one last chance to see him, I turned it down and let the one man, who broke my heart a million times, slip in between my fingers into the hands of another woman. My heart sighed of relief, high five to future me. She can take care of him and enjoy the emotional wars. I was not placed on earth to make a man happy. Partnerships should never be one sided.

I continued my stroll on this earth, the sun rose with peacefulness showing me all the light that I couldn’t see the night before. I heard birds trying out for the local choir and felt peace at least. I am as free as Lana Del Rey.

One day at a time

Something died the night of January 22nd and the early hours of January 23rd. The darkness engulfed earth leaving the moon as the only glimpse of hope. Silence pierced my ears as the night blinded my sight. They say peace comes after the war, once the dust is surfing craters and the broken pieces are dismantled. Such sense of sanity is never a given and never attained without effort.

The absence of noise only torments the soul, fills the mind with unanswered questions and thoughts that the heart does not want to hear. There comes a time in life when swimming against the current and struggling fiercely leaves you crippled. You can’t fit in a box. You can’t try to love and be there for someone when loving yourself is a constant battle. A moment of pause. Breathe slowly.

Secretly, your heart seeks comfort and words of wisdom all around you. “So why do you live at home? What happened six months ago?” The 50-something year-old man told me a snippet of his story “3 years in a drug-alcohol abusing center.” I was surprised. I began to see him with color. He wasn’t just a man I hardly knew anymore. Now he was a man with a story and with mental strength. “How did you do it?” I spoke with a broken heart, confused and lost in my own world, “one day at a time, that’s how I still do it,” he replied. Human beings are colorful. All with a story. All with a mountain in front of them. The elderly lady that I was checking out at the register spoke to her friends about her cancer. I’m sure for her it is all about one day at a time too… Live for just another tomorrow.

So… One day at a time, they say. One rising sun, one rising moon, one cycle of 24 hours. The shadow on earth rotates, light penetrates, then escapes to someone else’s world and darkness settles. Survive it all. The ups and the downs. Daytime and nighttime. Limit the struggle to today…

TCKs with a Desire to Escape

I seek an escape. My words ask to be heard by any ear that is present, hence driving my love of writing to the strangers who read. When you feel others have left you, it is only natural to feel you want to leave. Home remains just a dusty crater. I sat at the bar of Denver’s Airport and when he asked “where is home?” I could only reply “What is home? But a concept.” He paused, took a sip of his drink, and smiled.

Escape comes in many forms. The mind can travel miles, dream, and desire. The body can be transferred throughout geography in a car, train, plane. All it takes is typing in a few numbers from a card that leads to a decrease in your bank account or an increase in your credit card balance. It’ll get paid off in time at no penalty. Why worry? Book it! Fly! Drive! Leave! You know you will return with so much certainty it makes the escape a little less sweet.

Psychologists say Third Culture Kids (a TCK is a child that was raised in a culture that represents neither his mother nor his father’s culture) suffer from unresolved grief. In adulthood, this loss often reemerges and they struggle to find an appropriate coping mechanism. I’ve always wondered how being a TCK (a gift and a curse) and the absence of my father have made me who I am or who I am not. Dr. Perry says that “daddyless daughters… often make the huge mistake of allowing others to define them.” With pain, I can agree to this statement. In the absence of true stability (I question whether such even exists), it is expected for a young girl to struggle to find the answer to “who am I?” It is easier to become who others say you are. Perhaps living for the pleasure of making my mother, my only stable parent, proud was a form of an escape by avoiding the real question.

On the one hand, my sister changed her hair color a million times and refused to fit any label, in any box, a true chameleon. On the other hand, I reflected everything my mother wanted for me, down to the exact salary my mother wanted me to earn post-graduation. However, in the process, I lost part of me, though I don’t believe it was for the worst.

Psychologists say that parents will often tell their TCKs that they will be fine, will make new friends. It struck a powerful memory. Arrived home from a long day at school, my mother was in the kitchen and casually asked me “France or the States?” It wasn’t a joke. She really wanted me to decide. I chose the United States only because the high school system would be easy enough for me to not struggle. I began to tear up when she hugged me and said “You’ll be just fine.” Those words rang in my ears for so many months and still do today, six years later. But the truth is, I’m still not “just fine.” I can breathe just fine, I’m physically healthy and I can laugh for longer than most people I know, but in the depth of my soul, I am still very much not fine.

That same man who sipped on his drink disappeared from cell phone network about two days after we met. It is still a mystery to me where he might have gone. In the small amount of time we did converse, the interaction was strange in a comforting way. Have you ever spoken to someone and felt like they knew more about you than you ever told them? One quote stuck with me. He said “children who learn to speak different languages at a young age generally develop more over active multifaceted brains by default so in turn they’re more in-tuned and sensitive to their surroundings.” Then he continued “I sometimes sincerely wished I didn’t speak anything but English and was born and raised in Milwaukee and afraid of flying.” I smiled. I can’t say I hadn’t wished something similar before. Until such reincarnation, I will continue to escape, discover the wonders of the world until I fill the dusty crater of forgotten memories.



Dead Leaves

Everything that is created, dies. Autumn shows you that leaves cannot resist their season of death. Discolored, dry, you can hear them crisp when the steps of life stomp on them. Fallen leaves seeking refuge under the tree that gave them birth. Sometimes the end brings you back to where it all began, to who you were before life happened.

The one challenge we face is lack of understanding. Why do things work the way they do? Why does every living organism die? We seek answers to questions that keep us awake at night. The answers are never truly discovered. Either we find peace in knowing the answers do not exist, or we make ourselves believe any answer to get some sleep.

Peace, unfortunately, is not found easily. I struggle to understand sometimes how some people manage to always remain calm and at peace with the changes of their world. Like a jelly fish, they float above water despite any waves that crash into them. They find their way back to their home. That’s what I want. A Google maps itinerary to go home, wherever that may be. And perhaps I won’t return home until that very last day.

So you tell yourself you’re OK, because you can’t afford to fall apart. You’ll only end up on the sole of someone’s shoe during an early morning in fall. You just try to remember that every dead leaf, gives room for a fresh green leaf in Spring. Life. Death. A vicious cycle. A dangerous game to play.