Monthly Archives: August 2012



Releasing the clutch in anticipation for that green light, for the moment when you can spend all of your energy on your goal, brings an early release to a stall. Embarrassment shows on your cheeks when the car needs a restart. All others are ready to move forward but they are still waiting on you. Finally the car started and you try to move as quickly as possible, however too much gas makes a noisy car. Anxiety is now set in, you know you can do it, you’re able to do more. Another chance approaches. Next stop light, the car is in neutral, when it turns green, the first gear is sticky and you force it. The car hesitates and they again all wait on you. Insults fly out on how the car doesn’t work, to hide the fact the driver can’t handle the car. One last chance and a beautiful transition from clutch to gas and from gear to gear happens. Of course the ones that saw you fail, took a different turn. I may not be able to prove myself to those that have seen me fail, nor to those that have seen me succeed. Regardless I’ll keep driving, awaiting God’s direction for me.


The International Ball


The United States would host the yearly International Ball for dignitaries and rulers of the world’s countries. A great event to socialize, meet new cultures and speak peace. As head of security for the Queen of Spain, our travel to the United States, only posted one big threat. A company of women thieves were seeking to replace our ruler with one of their own, whose likeness no one could deny. Getting out of the country seemed too easy, there were no attacks or received threats. On our way to our hotel through country roads, our coach stopped. Before us stood the three we were awaiting. It amazes me still what women can do in high heels. The fight began and through the kicks and punches the display of aggressive jewelry was impressive. The enemy beaten, our feathers ruffled, now we have to get ready for the ball in a hurry. Her majesty always shinning and beautiful. In her giving nature she granted me one of her outfits. I may have been head of security, but my body could not have looked greater, more attractive, a weapon on its own. My stilettos and sparkling short skirt was sure to turn heads. At the ball, all the rulers greeted, while the security agents stood at a distance watching closing. There was no reason to think she was in danger. I checked the terrace where behind a wall in a corner stood my object of affection. He was American, tall with sweet freckles, dressed in his black suit, lavender shirt and royal blue tie. His brown eyes looked at me with a smirk, nodded at my legs and grabbed me. We kissed and held each other. In a few moments, caught by surprise by my security team and my queen, she says,  “Aqui encontramos la verdadera razon porque teníamos que venir.” (So we find the real reason we had to come). She winked at me and returned to her party. Embraced in his arms, I opened my eyes and giggled, I liked that dream.

The Cockfight


The eyes twitch, their backs bend forward and the claws sharpen. Drama floats above and opportunities for eruption come. Arms begin to wave in the air, voices escalate and released are all the old annoyances. The shedding of tears, the memories of past issues and current ones surface. The soap opera begins and spoken words hurt greater than intended. Suddenly it becomes clear that the placement of dishes in the dishwasher is not the actual problem, but that two overworked parents need rest. We hope that the world won’t chop off our heads and we instead return to our chicken coop.

The Rules



The rules have been laid. The family members threatened. She’d be watching them all from afar. The first temptation arises. A little old woman approaches with a big smile. The holder of the precious cargo tried to ignore her, but the woman held out her hands and puckered her lips. Eyes like a hawk rested on the holder, this was the moment of truth before her. The holder knew the old woman, they had been neighbors for years. The woman’s eyes open wide as she waits. The holder’s head hung low as she stated, “I’m sorry Mrs. Clark, his mom would kill me if I let you hold him.” The mom’s shoulders relaxed from a distance,  while the old woman nodded sadly. “But come by tomorrow, I’ll have him all to myself.” The woman winks, a mom sighs and the holder waves with a smile.