10:18 PM; Logan Blvd—bed
Woke up to such a beautiful day that I felt over Molly, felt down for love. Crazy how much the weather determines my mood. Crazy to think it’s been two years since the spring that I fell for Tracy. Went home for Easter yesterday and had Mom read my tarot. Confusing messages.
Began working on Mirna’s branding project. Been writing tunes with Jeff. Still climbing with Luke on the weekends. Spoke with Jessface today before heading to Target with Maia. Glad I have my people around. Was supposed to write about Abuela for therapy tomorrow. Have been putting it off because I’m scared my memories won’t feel real enough. Won’t do her justice. I nightmare all the time. But I’ll give it a shot.
Abuela was so good at listening—she’d sit in her chair while I told her stories about my day—her eyes would be bright, intense. Her feet crossed. When she stood up, she’d slip her shoes on and shuffle to the kitchen. She stood her dominos up vertically, tap her pointer finger only. [Here comes the pain.] She loved to smile, to joke—her laughter would bubble forth. She’d squint her eyes and wag her finger in take chastisements. She’d hold her coat closed, her purse hanging from her elbow. She huffed when she was exhausted, blowing her hair up off her face. Baskin Robbins. Pralines and cream. The Chinese restaurant—she’d order cashew chicken. Honey Jam Cafe. Portillo’s. La Briola—she’d send me to get cookies for us at the bakery; Yorktown AMC—anything animated. JC Penny, TJ Maxx, Nordstrom’s. Von Maur, J. Alexander’s, Red Lobster, Oliver Garden. Hobby Lobby. Always leaning on the cart, slowly working her way up and down the aisle. Celecholos. Empanada. Potatoes and eggs. She gave us so much. I remember we went to the movies on one of the coldest days of one of the coldest winters and we laughed at how crazy we were. [Pain pain. pain.] I wish I held her hand more. Sitting on her back porch. Sitting out front on her folding chair. Pressing the garage button as we waved goodbye. Hasta mañana. Mónica. Dominos. Racko. Yahtzee. Rummikub. Jewelry. Knitting. Timber. Arroro mi niña, arroro mi amor, arroro pedazo de mi corazón. Turning the volume on her TV down. Turning down the volume on her phone. She’d put it on speaker and hold it up to her ear. Her fingernails were always nice. Her handwriting was beautiful. Her signature elegant and effortless. Sleeping on her arm, nudging her when she snored. She always kept her dictionary on the fireplace step close by. She always had cookies around. Always have coffee in the morning, wearing her nightgown, her hair a mess. She’d always wear a necklace when she dressed up. We had something so special.