abuela is special

Ready for old age in my boomer outfit
Daily writing prompt
What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?

my granddaughters will love me even as they rolls their eyes at me-
as I try to awkwardly relate to their slang and taste in music-
they’ll be like “abue-that’s so special”
and while I’ll know what they’re trying to say
I’ll annoy them even more out of spite or to make them laugh
my granddaughters will appreciate that I’m not like other grandmas

I wrote the poem above a year ago thinking about what kind of grandmother I’d be. One thing is for sure, I won’t be like my mom who goes above and beyond her role of mamacita and is the most wonderful grandmother to mine and my siblings kids. I’ll be different but in a fun way. If I’m blessed/cursed to live a very long life (which could happen because my grandparents on my maternal side have lived past their 90s), I want to be like my grandparents who had a very good quality of life until the end. I want to be as active as possible in my old age.

me with my grandmother in 2014

I also envision myself as a storyteller with my granddaughters gathered around me as I tell them about the olden days before the internet or when we had to take our pictures to the photo place to get them developed. I want to be as candid as possible with them about my misadventures in life and love so maybe they’ll learn from my mistakes and learn to have grace with themselves when they make mistakes. I want to be a safe space for my granddaughters when they have problems. I also want to be like my great-great-grandmother Mercedes who still smiled for the camera in her old age while holding her beer in her hand.

My great great grandmother Mercedes

It would also be kind of ironic if I did live to my 90s and beyond, considering how I’ve been romanticizing death since I was 15. However, at the end of the day, I do love being alive on most days and do try my best to be as healthy as possible to live a long live to annoy my loved ones, especially my granddaughters. I’m kind of excited to see what technological advances I’ll live to see. Like, will AI become part of our everyday existence? I mean, it already is part of mine with Alexa waking me up every day. Will men, gasp, finally do their part and take birth control pills instead of leaving it up to women to take responsibility? Will there be a magic pill for PMDD for future generations of women who can take it so they don’t go to crazy town every month? Will the internet read your algorithms so hardcore they erase any vestiges of anyone you have a falling out with from your phone/social media? I’m not sure if any of these questions will be answered, but it would be great if some of them were.

❤️❤️❤️

poetry: christmas day 2022

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

my boys are everything to me

Relief comes after a nap on Christmas day
I woke up with so much joy and warmth in my heart
I feel like I’m standing on top of a mountain I’ve been climbing forever
A mountain climb that’s had a most treacherous uphill
and loaded with many obstacles I’ve stumbled and fallen from many times
but the universe, God presented me this gift of contentment for my life
the understanding that everything had to happen for this reason
to live in my childhood dreams of having my own family
who brings me love and purpose every day of my existence

Words

Me with my boys at my niece’s Quinceñera

Who are your current most favorite people?

My favorite words are my sons names

names that taught me about patience

and unconditional love

names that have made me get up

when I didn’t want to 

names that fill me with faith and hope

when I’m about to lose it

names that make me want to become 

a better person than I was yesterday

names  I live for  

names  I would die for 

7/6/22

poetry: saint tracey

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me with my oldest in 1998

saint tracey assured me my life wasn’t over
she showed me love and compassion
when everyone else shunned me
she accepted me for who I was
and encouraged me to follow the path of success
she saw the hidden potential in me
when other teachers saw laziness
she was a prayer from God
sent to me to remind me
my mistakes don’t define me
and that I was still worthy of the love
and goodness in the world

poesía: no se como

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Dear Son

Quiero lo mejor para ti-porque te lo mereces,
porque tu no pediste ser parte de este mundo
pero la sigo regando con mis decisiones impulsivas
con mis estupideces
y no se como voy a salir de esta última atrocidad cometida
que afectará el futuro de los dos

poetry: healthy is not

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

taco love is a healthy kind of love ALWAYS and FOREVER

I thought that for once I had a healthy kind of love but I was wrong-
Healthy doesn’t carry lies, toning myself down, or accommodate in extremes
Healthy is not running from conflict or avoiding hard conversations
Healthy is not hiding the worst parts of myself because I’m too scared to be alone
Even now, I’m not sure what healthy is-but I didn’t have it with you

poetry: crayons and guns

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

me with my oldest son in October of 2022

With excitement in his eyes, my son used to bring me pictures of made up monsters
Drawn with crayons-
With pride in his stance, he now brings me target sheets showing me how he’s well on his way
to becoming a decent shot with a revolver
When did my child go from crayons to guns?
It seems like I blinked and he went from four to twenty four
He went from being a rambunctious little boy who was hard to keep up with
to a strong and independent man who no longer needs me
And while I’m full of joy about this transformation-
I still miss the carefree days of crayon drawn monsters

poetry: fighting with my teenage son

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

me and my teenage son when he was toddler

Me and my teenage son fight and I regret it the next day
I’ve watched too many people mourn their sons this year
I’ve felt the screams of those close to me
asking God why he took their babies too young
Young men who will never be fathers,
Young men who will never see their children grow up
into rebellious and sassy teens
and while I understand conflicts happens between
parent and child
I also know we’re both on borrowed time
and I don’t want our angry words
to be the last exchange between us
if its his or my last day today