"I think a lot of people know that my first book was written for my grandmother", I tell myself. » Y G H M®: the stories, yo
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“I think a lot of people know that my first book was written for my grandmother”, I tell myself.

“I think a lot of people know that my first book was written for my grandmother”, I tell myself.

The dog in the corner tilts his head.

“Yeah”, I say as I turn my head away from him, “yeah… I don´t know.”

I pause.

“I thought or expected… you know… I´m not sure.  No matter what happens in my life–you won´t be there.  In my successes and failures, I can´t share them with you, not physically.  Certainly, there may be something afterwards–and, maybe I´ll see you again–but, still, do you understand that you won´t be here.  Like, it´s something that actually increased my quality of life–

You always asked if I had friends–I always lied.

In retrospect, it is obvious that you wouldn´t always be here–like a mist, you are gone.  Still, do you understand–that without exception, I won´t share a laugh or send you random packets of cheese in the mail.  Maybe I can find someone else that I can call and I know will, if able, answer the phone;

Someone who cares enough to be a jerk.

That´s what I liked about you the most–when my guitar playing sucked, you told me to stop that racket and get lessons; canoe trips on the Potomac, I think that´s what I remember the most; moments of estatic engagement; paddling down the river, once we stepped foot on the other side of the river; it was muddy; boring, really; there´s not much more that I can say–I think what you may not, or didn´t, understand was that you made me feel safe, loved and accepted.  I don´t know if you understood yourself. You said that we were your favorites

I told you that you can´t say that–you didn´t care.

You picked each word carefull when you would write me emails–your typos are a part of you.  I remember your sermons when we would visit–I remember when I gave mine, you seemed so happy.  I wish you knew that it was not a competition–never really about me being better or comparing;

It is just me;

It´s really just how I am–I can´t be anything other then me.  I don´t think you understood that people are just them.  Like… what I want to say… is that it was not anything different then all

we can be is ourselves.

The person that is begging for money–that´s who he is.  The person that paints the beautiful painting then puts it in storage–is that person.  It may not make sense–the person that abuses people, abuses people.  The person that lies to woman lies to men, also.  It is the fabric of self.  When we lie to ourselves, we lie.  When we don´t care about ourselves, we don´t care. When we make up stories about who we are, we make up stories.  I don´t think that it is dependent on others or circumstances, simply the person treats himself as he treats the world.

You go to what you aim for–you rise or fall as you believe, you are.

If you tell yourself that you are the greatest in the world, you will believe yourself.  If this is what you think, your actions will align with this–the mission.  If your behavior is in this manner, in time, eventually, you will reach there–that place that you call home is where you will, at some point, arrive to.  It is important then to set yourself to be great, to matter, to be important; setting the bar low for yourself is a shortcut. Saying that I´m not going to be successful will make you act in a way that will not make you successful–where are you going? 

Say, ´I´m the best in the world at´

Then stop; pause; think about it for a moment.

Then, let it go; accept that you are the best in the world at… You know, what…”

I pause; I need to get the mop. I look down at my feet.

“It´s just a broken taza.”

I pause; what am I doing?

I turn around and take a step towards the hallway; moments later, I return to the kitchen; I pick up the pieces of the shattered coffee mug; I put them in the trash; I wipe up the spilled coffee.

What a waste is good coffee on the floor when you drop your cup.

I use the mop to clean up the spill.

Caution–slippery when wet.

I chuckle; that´s a good album.

I turn and take a step towards the hallway; I put the mop back in the closet; I pick up the sign that the floor is wet; I set it in the kitchen.

An ounce of prevention

I turn to the cupboard; I open it; I pick up another taza; I fill it up–15% milk and one spoonful of unrefined sugar. I sit down at the table; I take a sip; I set the taza down; I lean back in my chair.  I turn my head back to the dog in the corner–I´m overly dramatic at time, right? The dog looks out the window and then back to me.

Yeah, I think as I lean forward and pick up the mug.  I take a sip–this coffee is delicious.

“Hey HR”, I say as I reach over for a bag of digitalpapitas, “what brand is this?”

She rolls her eyes at me.

“I told you yesterday”, she says as she grabs a handful of palomitas, “you´re being strange again… get it together, dad.”

I pause; whatever.

I set the coffee mug down; I lean back in my chair–anyways, the coffee is delicious.

Thanks, my wife thinks back to me, it´s the brand that you like.

Thanks, I think back to her; I smile.

“So”, I say as I turn my head to look out the window in the kitchen, “HR… what´s new in your life?”

She pauses.

“Yeah”, she says as she takes a sip of soda, “the boy in blue pants and I broke up.”

I pause; how many hot dogs can I fit in my mouth at the same time?

I turn my head to HR.

“Oh”, I say as I lean forward and take a sip of coffee, “that´s nice. Oh WOW. Go on…. I´m listening.”

Man, this coffee is FUCKING de-lic-i-oso, I think to my wife.

I´m sorry, she thinks back to me, I´m at work, please stop thinking to me. Try to have a conversation with HR, instead.

I pause; she´s right.

“So”, I say as I turn my head back to HR, “you were saying that you and the boy in blue pants broke up.”

“Yeah”, she says as she turns her head to the coffeemaker then back to me, “I´m devasatated.”

How are we going to pay for her baby?

“When´s your due date again?”, I ask as I lean back in my chair.

“June 37th”, she replies as she grabs another handful of palomitas.

“Ok”, I reply as I lean forward and pick up my coffee, “good…”

I pause; ok… let me think….

“So”, I say as I set down the coffee and lean back, “we still have time.”

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