#52essays: The Scabs

My sister got married today. She asked me to pour the ceremonial libation which is an integral part of any auspicious gathering in our culture, at the reception dinner. I positioned myself and steadied the plant that would be the recipient, my voice and hands shook as I juggled the mic and calabash. As I…

#52essays: Scattered Thoughts Determined to Breathe

I’ve been dragging my feet about the essay for this week. I haven’t particularly written anything this week. Usually, I write here and there during the week. There have been moments of brilliant recognition of a great line to start with but I have been either too sleepy or tired or take the pen and…

#52essays: 700,800 minutes

That was about 700,800 minutes ago. Rent is my favorite musical of all time and this particular song: “525600 minutes…how do you measure a year?” rings true for me tonight more than ever as I write my fourth essay of the year. I’ve written several variations of #4thessay but somehow this one feels right to outdoor.

How do I measure 700, 800 minutes?

A Weary Heart

I find myself bursting into tears randomly over the last several weeks since I returned from vacation. It’s literally only been 20 days since I arrived back in the U.S. and I have knots in my neck. My stomach is always upset. My herniated discs are more active than usual. I’ve been thinking that maybe…

Caged Bird

So Mama Maya has been gone less than a week. Back home, we’d be getting ready to sit down for the traditional one-week ceremony and decide Things. I just found out the Wake is on Saturday, but that it is private. The compromise though is that it will be streamed. It’s amazing how some folks…

My Heart is Smiling (P.S. I Love You)

“My heart’s never smiled so hard, baby; loving you is fun!” (Easton Corbin) This phrase from a country song (surprise! surprise!), reminds me of the numerous conversations David and I used to have. Often we would text: “my heart is smiling/laughing.” Or the question: “do you still have butterflies?” Answer: “of course! And I hope…

Hello 2014

As a kid death came early to me. My maternal great-grandmother died when I was seven. I have very little memory of being with her but stories abound of how mischievous I was as a kid and how I used to hide her rosary and prayer-books and watch gleefully as she searched for them. They…