Mama’s House

There was a boy who lived in a house
Where the walls had holes that echoed opened wounds
That secrets and cement have paved over
This home raised a boy
Who turned himself into a man
But childhood is a parabolic shadow
That molds and metamorphoses
From boy to man
But though he wrote chased his fate in dreams
And turned into something magnificent
The scent of his mother’s wrongdoings disable his sense of smell- when it comes to finding someone with a gentle face and heart to match
Dear boy,
I empathize with you.
For I know what it is like to chase the environment comforts
That reminds us so much of childhood
Comfort
You should celebrate the fact that I am taking the time
To express the words
On this keyboard; contrasting our upbringings that have lead us to the young people we are today
But Dear….boy? Are you a man?
You have been controlled and conjured by the most horrific beings
But when something as sweet as cherry wine in the sunshine beamed down on your essence
Your pit turned raw

Mothers

Mothers. They are the matriarch’s of the universe, and the name most kids wail when we are in need of a little extra love. The saying usually goes “she’s your mother, you only get one of them.” In my case, I have two. One who has been watching me on the horizon of every sunset for a while now. I was told she had the warmest brown eyes a woman could carry. I see her every day. My Earthly mother, has already been caressed by angel kisses. She’s a fighter, much like ‘her fierce little girl.’ One of my earlier childhood memories seeped into my conscious mind as I sat in my empty house this afternoon. My empty house…the house that echoes painful coughing, the floorboards hollering as the walker is dragged sluggishly across the living room to the bathroom.

When I was a little girl, the living room glistened warmth from the sunlight soaked curtains. We would keep every door and window open, my mother, watching me dance like the wild thing I always have been. Catching the autumn rhythm of the leaves- twirling with them too. Mommy opened up her arms; her blonde hair poured down her neck. “Juuuuuuuuliaaaaa,” she calls me so sweetly. “My little sweet, come here darling.” Like the moon changes forms, I so naturally obeyed my mother’s request. Skipping full force to the oval ocean blue that her eyes glistened to me since the day I was first placed in her arms. I climb to her lap and instantly grab onto her pearl diamond Tiffany necklace my father had gotten for her. It glistened with my mother, not for her. “Julia Katherine, you are beautiful, and you are rare,” she began. Of course, her praising called for my full, young attention span. “You are rare because you see kindness and love in everything around you. You must be kind, but you must be fierce.  The world does not inhabit people who often carry the gift you have. Can you do that for me love? Be my fierce little girl, and then one day, become my fierce woman.” I am at this point nuzzled into my mother’s breast. That never fed my tiny body or touched my suckled lips. But never ceased to be home. Where her heart beat the loudest. I look up at her and nod my head yes. She pats my back as she always did. “But who are you kidding, you’ll always be my fierce little girl”.

That evening we watched the sunset and my mother smile at little me, and my mother as well.

The Dot Theory

“You never find enjoyment without having some sort of curiosity. The kind that pushes your limits lifts you out of your comfort zone and compromises all” — J. Katherine

Curiosity is just another component that sparks humanity’s lust for life. The universe holds a soul similar to a large body of water. Some of the greatest, Pre-Socratic philosophers once believed that the arche of life lies in the elements of the Earth (water, fire, air). Arche is the Greek term for “origin of life.” To find the first drop that triggered the ripple effect, leading to the creation of our current world. While I do not believe that the universe’s birth was brought on by a leaf or a drop of water- I find it fascinating to connect all of the world coincidences. To define why so many of us experience the “small world” feeling. Everything is connected to something in this dimension.

The “small world” feeling is just so. We as a species were given ears to listen and eyes to analyze; to find what Aristotle calls “the good life.” The good life is a theory that states that a person’s arche is to be able to leave the world knowing they found pure happiness. Leaving this life fulfilled in nurturing one’s theory of what their idea of happiness and beauty is. This is also where to the power of Free Will (my favorite human power) comes into play. For you see, there is not official ethic code for people to follow, like directions on an exam, to receive a 100% on passing Life 101. We are all neurologically wired differently to find our OWN good life. But instead, I witness so many followers who are comfortably blinded by media and materials; not truly looking for their self. Then again, those people have the free will to choose to live such a life.

As stated earlier, I enjoy connecting all of the dots and patterns I have to seem to find during my short twenty-one years. We each have our own stories, our dots to connect. This is also one of the MANY times where life can be “unfair.” When the dots don’t connect perfectly to where one might want them to be; it is easier to look at the good of what once was, while making new connections. Look at the sweet moments that drew you in to whatever has now sailed away. Be humble for the opportunities you had, and live freely.