Friday, December 30, 2005

Spending Christmas Solo

He sits staring at the full glass of whiskey.
There have been many changes through the years of his life but not the way he likes his whiskey.
He still pours it over a mountain of ice, filling the rest of the glass with water.
Some things should never change... the way he likes his whiskey is one of them.
He tries concentrating on the things he has do to. There are still DVD´s that need to be copied, covers that need to be printed and movies to be downloaded. He hasn´t yet put onto a CD that new movie that he downloaded about the haunted house. She´d like that movie for sure! She always liked things to do with the supernatural.
A lump comes into his throat as he remembers his daughter, she´d asked him to smile this Christmas but he was finding it hard to answer to her wishes.
A whole year has passed since he last saw her smile yet he sees it in his head as if it were yesterday.
A pile of the latest games lie on his table, they are copies that he made for people who ordered them to give to their children as Christmas gifts... All he wanted for Christmas was to see his boy´s face as he saw all the games Daddy would give him.
But neither of them were there.
It´s Christmas and all he´s got is the memories of the Christmas gone by.
He wanted to smile but all his face could give were tears of emptiness.

Dearest Daddy,
I thought of you all day, not just because it was Christmas day but because today, like any other day... I missed you.
I wanted to remember you with a smile of the wonderful memories you gave us last year but instead, I remembered you with a broken heart.
I would´ve smiled if I imagined you in the kitchen making our special magic stuff, the fig cake and the roasted chicken...
You would talk about Christmas in Madeira, the traditions and the memories you lived and I would feel you rememebering the same moments I was reliving with my brother.
I would´ve smiled knowing that you would smile everytimes you remembered me, every moment we shared as a family.
I would´ve smiled if you´d thought of me with a smile.
Instead I cried because I felt you crying... I felt empty because you felt empty.
Surrounded by people, I somehow felt all alone because I could see you, sitting in your chair reminiscing on your solitude; retracing all the steps that got you all alone in a big house. Bitter are the memories that once were sweet and the thoughts that once brought joy now are no more than painful reminders.
I cried because you cried and couldn´t think of you with the smile that I intended.
I miss you Daddy, not just today, not just on Christmas but everyday...
Everyday I wish you were with me;
Everyday I long for your presence.
I´ve learnt to miss you with a smile, instead of a tear because you are too special to be thought of with sadness.

Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.

If you make the effort you will find there there are those who want to hear about how much you love your children, who care about you and who want to spend time with you regardless of what is on your mind! You will be happy and I will feel your love from across the ocean.
Please be happy so that I can think of you with a smile rather than a tear.
Even at this distance, time will never change how much I love you Daddy.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

As Tight As It Gets

Sometimes when you least expect it, you find yourself in a tight spot and end up thanking the hand of fate that decided to have some fun during rush hour traffic on a dull Tuesday at your expense.

Sunshine says: Enjoy every misfortune for in there somewhere will be a reason to smile or laugh about it later.

I once again began cursing the mob that began pushing their way into the Metro about to once again reduce to me a Sardine sandwich in an economy pack tin can.
But before I finished, a pair of huge blue eyes accompanied by a warm smile caught my attention. It was heaven’s justice that he should head straight my way and I wondered if my angels hadn’t taken my quick prayer too seriously when they began squeezing him up against me.

Pushed by the crowd there was very little either of us could do to prevent getting closer and by the time the doors shut, I could feel his breath on my neck and hear the beating of his heart. I couldn’t quite recognize the cologne he was wearing except to identify that it was suave but lasting – the kind that robs your senses slowly and then intoxicates you completely. I couldn’t help but let my imagination get the better of me as I realised how incredibly erotic it was to be pressed up against a wall by a good-looking man. The slightest movement was a forbidden pleasure. I wanted so badly to take another look at his eyes but at the same time I was glad that neither of us could turn our face to look at each other – our faces would without a doubt touch and even if they didn’t – I’d die of embarrassment if he saw the colour on my cheeks that evidenced my naughty thoughts.

Perhaps he did fell the heat from my cheeks after all, or he read my mind because when the door closed at the second station he whispered in my ear that he liked the way I smell. The sound of his voice took me completely off guard but I still managed to reciprocate the compliment with a steady voice.

Unusually daring, I moved my hand from where it lay and discovered that his hand wasn’t too far apart. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I could feel him smile as our pinkies intertwined.

I wonder if I’d find the courage to find his whole hand but before I could muster the courage, the doors opened for the fourth time and the mob dispersed to the train station. There was breathing space again and I could once again breathe the oxygen as he moved away.

Slightly disappointed, I looked at the door that would open next where I’d get off and felt satisfied for the moment past regardless of how brief. As I positioned myself in front of the steel doors, I felt my arm being pulled and saw for the first time a shiny ornament of the stranger’s hand.

“I’d ask you for your number if I didn’t belong to someone else” he explained sheepishly.

Smiling, partly at him, partly at me mostly at destiny… I wasn’t sure whether I was angry or relieved that fate’s pawn was married. I’ll probably never see him again but if I do, I’ll ask him for his name so I know which kind of guys I should look out for.

Life is about the journey, not the destination.

Moment of Weakness

When your heart is broken:
You can’t see…
You can’t breathe…
It’s like watching your life in grey scales from a dark corner of a stuffy theatre.
People around you laugh and occasionally you manage a smile or two… though it never truly reaches your heart.

I believed that I was strong…
That I could overcome anything… but repeated disappointment exhausts me.
Too many goodbyes…
Too many tears…
Too many promises to myself that I could not keep.

I suddenly forget the goals I had,
The dreams I pursued and the reasons that kept me fighting.
I find myself having to drag myself out of bed,
Every morning searching for the courage to lift my head from a wet pillow and live out the life’s projects that now make little sense.

I wipe away my own tears and manage a sincere smile.
Broken but now defeated, the eyes in the mirror remind me that as long as I’m breathing, I’m still living.
Maybe not today,
Maybe not tomorrow,
But someday… I’ll wake up and see a rainbow in the sky and God will send down all his angels to paint the world in colours for my eyes to see again.

The pale face that stares in the mirror has red blood beneath the bleakness that haunts it.
It’s reflection reminds me that stars still shine…
The sun will rise in the morning…
And butterflies never forget how to fly.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Midnight Rendezvous…

There are days that you wake up in the morning expecting nothing more than just another regular day... And then life happens.
The phone may ring and someone that you haven’t seen for a long time may unexpectedly invite you for dinner.
Those who play it safe would assess the risks, recall the reasons for the distance and cover all possible scenarios before either turning it down or accepting the invitation. I confess that I didn’t think twice and was glad that the adventurer in me was returning to her full potentially impulsive self.

Moments that aren’t planned usually make for better memories than those that are well thought out. As I felt my feel sink into the sand, I knew that my destination was due to an angel that must’ve heard my heart’s calling to be near the ocean. More on a whim than for any other reason, my companion and I decided to go feel the water’s temperature and somewhere along the way we created a moment worth remembering…

On a deserted beach in the cold of the night two adults acted like children as they played in the sand, got their shoes wet and sand in all sorts of places. I’d forgotten how much fun it is to be spun around and to dance on the sand to the sound of laughter. I’d forgotten how good it feels to be tickled until my sides hurt, to be pulled close and to be touched… even cold hands can feel good if there is heat in their touch. It’s hard to stay indifferent to warm breath on your neck and the sound of sexy words mixed with the ocean’s waves. Intense eyes pulled one another to the limits, pulling back before falling off the edge. Each time they pulled away… they knew that it wouldn’t be too long before they got pulled back in.

Two old friends dismissed the cold midnight air with hot chocolate. They spoke of things in the passing and they spoke of things in the past. There are hurts in life we can only exorcise with the words of those who helped put them there.
It’s easier to deal with the pain of the truth than the anaesthesia of an answer not given. Even lies cause less damage than a blank uncertainty. When the answers aren’t given and things are left to say, people feel the need to fill in the blanks by jumping to conclusions. These are the conclusions that cause the most damage because no matter how logic may one day correct the mind, it somehow never manages to reach the heart once the truth’s opportunity has come and gone.
Steamed windows, intense looks and deep confessions… There are conversations you spend a long time hoping for and then they surprise you when they finally happen.

A long road along a coast line that changed from river to ocean… a GPS that didn’t function well… a ring that got stuck (more than once!) falling in a strategic spot… a black hair elastic that got lost… two different mugs of hot chocolate… a table that almost lifted… a seatbelt that served its safety purposes… nails that didn’t scratch… stops on the highway… cold hands mixed with warm skin… there are moments that your whole body remembers along with your mind.

How easy it is to push the buttons… how excruciatingly tempting it is to exceed the limits and drive another’s soul over the edge… out of control, in your control and vice versa… one needs to be very careful how you press another person’s buttons, never push them farther than their limits unless you’re prepared to take the plunge with them.

Moments come and moments go… as I lay my head to sleep I wondered if I would have to wait another three years for the honesty of all those who let me walk away without the words I need to hear. Some truths come too late…

In Love Again...

My lover is patient.
He welcomes me in subtle breaths and gives me the space to get used to his ways.
He speaks very little of himself yet allows me the freedom to discover him.
The more I know and with each passing day, I feel myself succumbing into his world – into him.

At first I gave him very little attention, even though I knew he was there: watching me, observing my every more.
He followed me to work in the mornings and accompanied me home at night. It took a while before I recognised his scent, which now follows me wherever I go.
He gives me control of my life and power to my decisions, yet he robs me of my senses and forces me to face my feelings raw.

A gentleman with cultural background and the spirit of the youth, those who observed me with him warned me of the love I’d surrender to…
And I have…

On a cold night where the lights of the city shone through me, the sound of him filled my ears and the mature scent of him intoxicated my senses – I surrendered to his passion and fell in love with him – in love with Lisbon

I’m in love with Lisbon.

A feminine voice and a masculine silence – Lisbon enters the very heart of your soul. Love him or hate him, no one stays indifferent to his influence. And when there is no once there to be with you – he’s there, standing by your side so that you never feel lonely in the city of lost souls.

He is everywhere that I am. I feel his spirit in the awakening of the city, in the energy of its ambition and the surrender of its exhaustion. He forces me to my limits during the day and embraces me at night. And though I do not belong to him, I simply could not walk away from him.

My lover is patient, he feels my hurt and recognises my needs. He asks nothing of me but motivates my potential – giving me the reasons to move on. Whatever happens in my life I know that ours is a lasting love. My goal in the relationship is the making of a positive difference in each other’s worlds.

May the intensity vary and may the passion never die.