The way we were

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I think Barbara Streisand said it best. “Memories may be beautiful and yet what’s too painful to remember we simply choose to forget. So it’s the laughter we will remember, whenever we remember… the way we were”

I’m sure that’s the way I’d like my autobiography to be written like. Or anyone else’s. Just the good times. The scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind. But if it were so, then wouldn’t big chunks of our plots be missing, making it impossible to just understand why anyone could ever be just happy? In truth, how can you recognize happiness if you’ve never cringed with sorrow?

My life comes in volumes. Some I’d sell to Hollywood, some awfully wretched, but nevertheless never, ever, uneventful. My boyfriend and I have this discussion often. I say that everything happens for a reason. He says “Some things should just never happen, they should be completely avoided.” And sure, I’m a sap for a happy ending. But what is an ending without the tale?

Last weekend, while at a friend’s wedding, we were dancing and he looks over at the bride and groom and exclaims “He says it only took him one year to fall in love with her. Ha! It took me 10! We got this babe!!!” and we both laugh hysterically as we spin into the song. And we dance the night away.

Love can be like that. Terribly sarcastic. The person you’ve been dying to meet could be light-years away, maybe a couple oceans over. Or maybe, just maybe, they’ve been hanging in your room on an old picture board for the past 10 years and you just never noticed.

Some people come into love so easily, and hey, that’s grand! But for those of us who have fought and struggled well it really feels like quite a battle. One you keep losing at. One that keeps draining you and taking as captive all your closest friends till that party of many becomes a party of one.

But nonetheless we can lose heart but never hope. We walk through the haze, hopeful, waiting that one day the fog will be lifted. That the ground that we walk on will have shifted, and we will see things new and different. That love somehow will find its way to you. That the tears shed were spent for a reason. That the heart that broke, will have healed in due season.

And spoiler alert… it does. I promise on everything I hold dear, it does. I laugh thinking about how my first column ever was titled “What if prince charming detours?” 10 years later, many tales, and battle scars the size of Texas, I come to find he did. And though it might have taken an awful while I’m mighty glad he’s finally, and ever so enchantingly arrived.

It’s late in the evening and he’s sitting on my couch. He stretches his hand, and I take it. No “if’s”, “but’s”, or “and’s” about it. He pulls me in, and I fall back into the couch next to him. And from the pocket of his suit he pulls out an old photo. It’s our first photo, a group picture with our closest friends, taken on the day that we met.

It’s super blurry. Because it’s so old and it’s completely out of focus. But 10 years later maybe it attests to the fact that life can be like that. A little out of focus. A bit blurred. And it doesn’t make sense. Not for a long while, till time itself teaches you everything has its time and place. And when you get there, to that moment. Well, that haze… it lifts. And you see it. There. It’s always been just there...

A forever kind of love

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It was mid day Sunday when we went over to visit a friend at a Geriatrics center. We sat most of the time discussing what to do about this Friends health. And explaining to his son, who had come down to visit from up north, the critical issue of this friend’s relocation.

See he’s in his mid 80’s now and often forgets taking his medication. He now needs care 24hrs a day. But all our good intentions are now short of the care that his family can give him. As my father discussed this with his son, I sat next to this dear old man and the love of his life.

She’d lean in to talk to him since he’s hard at hearing. And he’d look at her intently with the sweetest sadness in his eyes. There was warmth in the way they spoke to each other. And their love radiated in the way they’d smile at one another.

The decision to uproot him from his home was a hard one. And we all knew it. He’d live next door to the love of his life for 25 years. They never married and to anyone else it seemed like they lived separate lives. But they shared much more than just a hall in an apartment complex.

They shared decades of endless coffee’s and breakfasts. They shared dinners and long conversations. They shared losses and gains that life threw at them. All with stride, all with care, and deep respect for one another.

They shared their everyday life with each other; the monotonous routine to the perpetual tragic turn of events in their lives. For 25 years he drove her to all her errands. And every Sunday afternoon they could be found drinking coffee at her apartment after a long day of errands. When one was sick, the other would cook soups and old Mexican remedies for the other. This was their way. Their friendship was that profound. And year after year, a love more unconditional than any other type of love grew.

They never married because after becoming a widow she felt a sense of loyalty to her husband. And he never remarried because after a divorce he fell in love with a woman who would never marry again. But for 25 years they remained neighbors and each other’s confidant and best friend.

 Now both in their late 80’s their illnesses have blotted out their future. Dementia is starting to set in and it is harder for them to get around. They’ve become senile and it’s obviously time that someone takes care of them. They need nurturing and love, and sadly both will be leaving very soon to their families miles apart from each other.  Him up north, and her down south to Mexico.

So to see them today having come to the realization that now they must part ways was very much heart breaking. And he said it so that day at brunch. He told her his heart would break if they took him away from him. But she reassured him that it was okay. That she would put aside her heart just to see him well and better taken care of.

You could see it in their eyes, how hard it was going to be for them to say goodbye. How hard it would be to walk away from a lifetime of memories. But inevitability has a way of catching up with you when we least expect it.

The visit ended and we left promptly. But as we drove away I couldn’t help but think how bitterly sweet their goodbye would be. How after 25 years and many recollections they remained steadfast when it came to their love. So pure and so wholesome. Rare, oh so rare, for our time.

True love stories are very hard to come by these days. Pure unconditional love is a rare gem often stowed away secretly. Our society has a dire need of return policies when it comes to love. It’s so much easier for them to discard of someone than to stand by them a lifetime. And divorce has almost become a norm, a solution, an easy fix, to people’s issues.

So when you see a forever kind of love, the kind that lasts a lifetime, you can’t help but regain some hope. Hope in humanity, that the ideals that we vow to upkeep sometimes are worth all the struggle. That the exceptions in love can occur much more often than the rule. And that love is capable of withstanding much more than we give it credit for.

I’m not saying it’s easy to come by. What I am saying is that given a real shot at love, every relationship can have a real opportunity at it. But it might take rubbing off the skepticism we’ve been wearing as sunscreen. It might mean tearing down the walls of our insecurities. And it might also mean rebuilding and restructuring bridges we burned and digging up the ideals that we buried.

It’s work and exertion on our part, but a lifetime later you will find it to be a blessing… to have had lived through something so exceptionally special.

Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories

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“Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories” (An Affair to Remember)

It was the first day of winter today. The first day in November a chill filled the air. So cold you bypass the shadows and head straight for the sunlight paths. But it was there among the cold I walked alone.

I was running errands and getting swept away by the Monday Blues. I made it to my car finally and got in as quickly as possible. I burred loudly as an alert flashed the screen on my phone. I looked down and realized my calendar was alerting me of birthdays and such. I scrolled down and I saw his name.

I found it strange that I still held this information after so many years. Even more surprised when I realized it was in some way comforting. And in that car alone, on the first day of winter, with a chill in the air… I felt warmth.

I was only 15 when I met him. I was Cinderella at the ball when I met him, and he was the prince who found my lost slipper. I remember it well. I was sitting down when he walked in to the skating ring. I’d just suffer a hard fall and was trying to recuperate. A bit embarrassed I was taking my skates off when he came over. He’d recognize a mutual friend sitting next to me and wanted to say hello. He had a smile on his face when he introduced himself to me. He asked me what I was doing. And I said that I was quitting.

He laughed and said “Don’t do that. Come on, come with me. I promise, don’t worry, I’ll be there to catch you if you fall.” He extended his hand and I took it.

He was a stranger. But as I took his hand and proceeded to skate with him side by side I forgot all about it. He was charming, and witty, and terribly sweet. It felt safe, and warm, and right.

So we skated the rest of the night, and when the night ended we said goodbye. Sadly, neither one of us thought of asking the other for each other’s number. And yet somehow, I knew I’d see him again someday.

Months passed before I ever did. It was at a convention. I was about to take a step down the stairs when something made me turn left. And there he was. Dressed in a suit, and enchanting smile, just a couple feet away from me. Our eyes met, and we both swiftly moved towards each other. Needless to say, when the convention was over he asked for my number then. The rest as they say was history. Beautiful, first love, enchanting history.

We invested 5 years into each other. We loved foolishly and sometimes blindly the way first loves are often lived. It wasn’t a perfect love. It was after all my first. It was full of mistakes, much on my end for being so young. Full of emotions and ultimatums.

Expectation is what ruins first loves, and it did ours. I’d expected love to be a certain way, having it been engraved in me when it didn’t pan out the way I planned it, it felt like the sky was falling. But he never wavered. He loved me unconditionally. So beautifully that I couldn’t help but keep coming back to him.

The magic of first loves is our ignorance that it can never end. But they do. Because at that age, butterflies never lie still long enough. We parted ways at the end of those 5 years, and moved on with our lives.

I loved him dearly, and I know he loved me very much. But sometimes all the love in the world won’t save a sinking ship. Sometimes you just have to jump over board. And though till this day it warms my heart when I see him, an ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of beautifully written stories led up to it, it would always have the last word.

It’s been many years since then, time and distance created an inevitable gap, and needless to say we both ventured off into different territories. But even so sometimes I can still close my eyes and hear him say “Don’t you worry, I’ll be there to catch you if you fall”. And it still warms my heart.

So maybe I never really got Cinderella’s ending. Maybe in the process the glass slipper broke, but the story well that lives on forever. When I recant the story, I realize how terribly fortunate I was for having had an almost perfect first love. It set the standard pretty high thereafter. And left me a bit of an optimist when it comes to love.

I don’t know where he is in life, strangely enough. But wherever he is I wish him well, and happiness, and lots and lots of love because he deserves it. I adore him still, and always will, after all no one forgets their first love. I have only fond memories. Sweet rose colored memories. And I always will.

Some people in your life create that kind of impact. That inevitable mark in your heart that leaves you changed forever. Making you forever indebted with them for helping shape you. And thanks to him I learned what love is.

Sarah Dessen once wrote: “Some things don’t last forever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down on the corners and peering in close, hoping you still recognize the person you see there.”

And it’s true. Winter may be cold and bitter, and you might burr in desperation at times when it comes to love, but warm memories, well they stay with you forever. And they give you hope in despair. They remind you that if all else fails, eventually, spring will come.

Finding your niche

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“… I just did it. I moved away. I bought a one way ticket and I moved to Hawaii!!!” – he said through the line. Farther and farther as the words trailed off.

I was far northern, still in the same country but an ocean and a couple states away. “You’re quite brave. Everyone romanticizes with the idea of moving away, but you actually did it. I’m quite happy for you”. I said reassuringly.

I admired his sense of valiancy. To be able to let go of the weight and the burden of the past, to take action and do something about his future. To move on. But it hadn’t come easy. You see he’d been through a lot. Times that tested his faith, his strength, his maturity, his wisdom, all of him. A little bruised, and a little humbled, at a crossroad he chose to move ahead. A past that had anchored him for years had maybe made him lose his sense of direction a bit. But he knew it now, and that’s what mattered. A long conversation later, with many motivational words exchanged I promised he could always count on me, many miles away.

That night I laid in bed for hours, thinking about my own life and what I would do. It’s rather quite opposite. In those moments of weakness where valor has struck me, my thoughts have never led me far from home. Sure, I guess loading up a truck, filling it up, and riding off into the sunset and leaving it all behind does sound tempting. But let’s face it? How far could I get alone!? I’d get a flat tire half way there, pick up a psychopath hitchhiker and/or get there and acquire some rare third-world-country disease. (Apply all sarcastic humor uttering those words..lol). But that’s just me.

Every time I’ve thought of fleeting my current environment. I’ve always wanted to go, well… home. To where I came from, where I was born. Sure it’s full of genocide at the moment, but it’s the memories I treasure most. Those that don’t carry weight. Me at my happiest: Young, naïve, no burden in the world. Plainly and simply put, just happy. In my own way, I’ve always felt quite out of place here. I mean, I can’t complain, I love my family, I love my friends, I’ve loved everyone whose come and gone from my life. But my heart’s never quite settled to the surroundings. And a lifetime later, maybe I too have grown tired of my own direction. I’ve gotten lost a time or two in the dire search for happiness. I’ve felt the thunder, and the pouring rain, and the haze that doesn’t let you see past your own desperation. And when you’re that lost, well, sometimes all you crave is a bit of familiarity.

I guess, there comes a time in everyone’s life when all you can see are the years passing by. And after so many poets and writers urging us to seize the day. That’s the journey we choose to take. For some it means moving miles and maybe oceans, or countries away. For others it means finally coming home. Whichever fits you.

Maybe in the grand scheme of things all we are trying to do is find somewhere we belong. Somewhere it all makes sense. And that at the end of the day if all else fails somewhere to lay our head down, close our eyes, and begin dreaming all over again.

They say the road less traveled is less traveled for a reason. But maybe that reason isn’t because we chose to conform to the easier ideologies and clear paths. Maybe it’s because we, in our desperation forget that even the most meekest soul is brave. The Road Not Taken, is unfamiliar, and challenging. But it’s the one most vital to take at a time or another in our lives. For if we do not venture out into the world, find our niche in this big old place, we will always run in circles. We will always run into ourselves.

A sense of direction, doesn’t mean always holding a compass, it’s just putting one foot in front of the other, confident, that whichever destination our path leads, “the getting there”, will always be the most important part of the journey. Happy Travels.

Alive

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I fought with the napkin dispenser as I waited for my order to be ready. He must have seen me struggling and came up behind me. He pushed the napkin holder and with a swift of his hand he took out a stack of them.

“Here” he said. With my back still to him I felt my heart sink. I recognized that voice. It took only one word. But I knew it well. And when I turned around and the scent of his cologne caught my nose I was embraced by the past. “Hey you”. I acted surprised, he didn’t know how good I’d gotten at lying.

“Hey Miriam, how have you been?” he said.

“Great, and you? How’s your family? Your niece?..” I stopped myself. And just grinned I was nervous for no apparent reason. Other than I always felt as a fool when I stood in front of him.

He began to tell me about his family, and work. We even took to a stool to wait for both our drinks. I knew there was a lot of catching up to do. But I wasn’t paying attention to the dialogue. I was staring at him. My first love. The man whose heart I’d broken. And the one I paid my dues for. His eyes were gleaming, and he seemed happy. His spirit was light while mine weighed heavy. But I smiled and I pushed through.
“Mango-a-gogo with wheat grass for Miriam” the employee interrupted.

“Guess that’s me”. I went up to the counter and picked up my drink. I sat it down on the table we were talking and began saying goodbye. Something about being late, and having to get somewhere. He stood up and for the first time in years gave me a hug. A real hug. Not a “Good to see you” one arm hug. But an embrace, an “I care for you regardless” embrace.

I cringed in those few seconds. I’d been so long since anyone had hugged me. Really hugged me. It felt awkward an unfamiliar. And yet warm and inviting. I batted my eye lashes and gave him one last smile before walking out of the store. He didn’t have to know how wounding that embrace had been.

I got to my car. And I sat in the driver seat not going anywhere for a while. I just busted into tears. I’ve been feeling so lonely these days. So out of touch with the world. That when somebody touched me it nearly broke my heart. It could have been anyone. Anyone could have hugged me that day and it would have had the same effect.

That type of loneliness should be illegal. There was deep melancholy sorrow pouring out of me. It made it painful to breathe, to think. I’d been sweeping everything under a rug for the past weeks that it had all finally caught up to me. And all it took was one hug.

Have you ever walked into a room and not felt physically alive, till someone touched you or said your name? I feel like that often these days. Like a dusty arm chair in the corner of a crowded room.

That night as I laid in bed I realized one undeniable truth. I felt terribly alone. Left to fend for myself, I wasn’t doing a good job. I was muddling through. Moving but getting nowhere. I closed my eyes. What I wanted more in the world was to be wrapped in someone’s arms. To hear the beating heart beat of another. To feel wanted. And needed. Because maybe then I’d believe I was still alive.

Book on Sale Now!

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Book now on Sale on Lulu.

Hey guys! It's official the book is out today on Lulu on paperback editon only. For the time being it will be sold only there. I will announce as soon as it becomes available through amazon and E-book download format through major online-retailers. Thank you so much for the support and share this link with as many of your friends as possible. Thank you for reading, and thank you for buying!!! With love, Mimi Soltero


http://www.lulu.com/shop/miriam-soltero/too-many-words-not-enough-ink/paperback/product-20358069.html

For book preview click Here!

No two good things happen in one day

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‘No two good things happen in one day’. I read that once, or someone told me those words. The truth is I can’t remember it. But my mother told them to me this afternoon and they struck me like déjà vu. I’d been here before. This place was familiar. My path always led me here, no matter how many times the territory seemed hopeful and different, it was always this ending.

I’ve never been one to believe in luck. To be frank I don’t think it exists. But if it did I’d take the cake on horrible hardship luck. From wretched events that leave you with battle scars, to the silliest of happenings that leave you exasperated. Like a flat tire, or leaving your key inside the car, or rain without an umbrella. That was my life. Sure, it gave for some good stories, and I’ve laughed at myself more than anyone should be allowed. And I’m a mock of jokes to my friends because of my clumsy ways. But everything in small doses can be taken. Like that horrible pink, grapey syrup your mom gave you when you were little. One spoonful and it was over. You’d follow that gross after taste with your favorite juice or “something special” your mom would let you have because you’d been such a good girl. All things were bearable in small doses.

This week was one of those weeks you knew were special, the kind you’ll always remember because they leave a permanent history marker in your trajectory. And if you’re me, even a visible one. I spent it half working/half vacationing at the beach. But very much elated at the fact that a lot of things in my life seemed to being good. I’d recently received a clean bill of health; my book was days away from being published. I was content with where I’d been and where I was going. I’d even found someone to love again. Well, it all took a turn when I tumbled down the stairs on Monday. Literally. We rented a two story house at the beach and I was in a hurry that night going to meet up with family for dinner. Anyway I guess I should have known better but I rushed, and slipped mid-stairs all the way down. Going thump, thump, thump on my ‘derriere’ right down to the first floor. Bruising myself in places that were even a new triumph for me, if you’d like to think of it that way. I was the butt of the joke that night, and the rest of the vacation of course, no pun intended. But even a silly, clumsy moment should have told me better. It hinted, at the beginning of something. Starting the week on the wrong foot literally should always tell you something.

But that’s the thing; we all like to get caught up in the joy of it all. Sure, it might be the eye of the storm, but it’s YOUR eye. And in that moment, the clouds have parted and the sun is shining and that is all that matters to you. Who cares if a second wall is about to rip through the town, you don’t see it. You dare not imagine it, and you dare not believe anyone who forecasts it. But that’s the thing about inevitability it won’t wait for you to arm yourself with courage. It’ll hit you, blindside your emotions, even when you knew exactly what could happen.

The week progressed and I chose to put certain emotions at bay. Things that couldn’t be turned away from, when they were hitting you straight in the face. Yet things that hundreds of miles away from home you could pretend for a second weren’t happening. You weren’t there, it wasn’t real, and it was a dream, a nightmare if you will. Something happening to the girl, with that name and that life, that only belonged to that person when they were there, in that city. But all tales have a harsh reality, and all houses of cards will fall. So I went home to face reality, and anguish in the form of physical pain, death, and ill-fated love affair. And all in that order.

Miles from the sea, my body ached feeling the pain finally of my injured body. Miles from the sea I learned the man I’d fallen for had moved states away. Miles from the sea I learned that my great-aunt had passed away. All in one day. Inevitability. And I had nothing but seconds to compose myself and digest it. And it didn’t matter how successful that week had been making me walk on cloud nine. Right now, a brick wall had reminded me I was human. And all I could hear was a thump, thump, thump, going down.

That first day, seemed to drag along forever. The more the day went on, the heavier my step felt, the heavier my heart weighed. And I felt my confidence cower into a corner, shunned by every shot of pain showering from my heart in the form of sorrow. I couldn’t remember anything else but reality. The book seemed not a dream realized, but just something you crossed off a to-do list. The signature I’d attached to a certain application that I’d hope would soon bring back an “old privilege” was muddled. The great vacation spent with loved ones, was now just a story. The name’s I wrote on the sand, stating to the world I loved again, had been washed away by the tide. Right then, all I could think about was how foolish I was to think that I had any right to be happy.

I had no resilience. Just a deepening disappointment of myself. Because my mom was right. All good things couldn’t happen in one day. My experience should have led me to know better. But it was also true that all things could be bearable in small doses. But all at once, well, they can make even the biggest optimistic a jaded pessimistic.

I laid in bed that night for hours, sitting in a pool of self pity. And in that night every bad thing ever happened to me came crawling back from the corners of my mind. Memories and nightmares that danced around my room. Haunting and taunting me. And for that night I was that girl. That girl who cries and cries and can’t seem to stop crying because she’s exasperated with the amount of baggage life seems to hand her. I was that girl for that night, well except, I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry though every inch of my body cringed with sorrow. Because I no longer had the tears of a child… I had the melancholy heart of a woman.

We tend to fall apart when so many bad things happen all at once. Maybe because it’s the easiest thing to do, even though we feel like it’s the toughest thing to go through.  Till now my ‘Achilles heel’ had always been caring too much. Everyone knew it was my weakness. But I never saw it that way. Quite frankly it was my defense mechanism in some morbid way. I didn’t change it because it kept me human, and grounded. And it gave me every darn right to keep dreaming, hoping, and wishing for better days. The bible says eternity is inscribed within us, that’s to explain why we have that innate desire to want more than what we have now. Our mere imperfect soul craves what once belonged to us. True Happiness, Perfection, and Ever Lasting Life. But you let enough bad things happen to you with your guard down, and darling, your skepticism will be showing.

Where do you find the happy medium? Well I don’t think it’s an actual place, or a moment of closure, or one exact moment in time you can pinpoint in your life. I think it happens with time, with sadly, hardship, and lots of it. With the realization that you’ve been through worse things and you’ve gotten through them. And that with time this too shall pass. It doesn’t happen when you’re young, it can’t. Because you can call yourself the biggest optimist but unless you have the record to prove otherwise you really have no right to be.

But when you’ve been through it. Whatever “it” means personally to you. And you’ve come out the other end. You won’t question if this is all there is. You will know that optimism isn’t a blinding trait. It is a quality you can’t forfeit to the world, because you’ve earned the right to say “I will find the will, I will find a way.”
So when the next day came, long awaited, I rolled out of bed. Looked outside, and the sun was shining. And I was alive. And that was all that mattered.