I don’t know what I need
They think I don’t understand
The freedom land of the seventies…”
I color you pink, like our cheeks after we’ve been running, jumping, laughing
I color you blue, like the sunny skies that seem to surround us whenever we’re together, what I see in your eyes
I color you green, like the grass in Central Park, in our backyards, in the parks we’ve played
I color you orange, orange you glad I didn’t say banana?
I color you turquoise and purple and silver and glitter, like the unicorns and princess dresses and slime we’ve loved over the years
I color you with my big, broad brush of friendship
Layer upon layer, year after year our mural is a reckless, silly, beautiful mess
You and I the only ones knowing the brick that lies beneath
Two eyes to see
Two ears to hear
A nose to smell
A dream, a bucket-list item or simply a desired vacation, Dad has always wanted to experience a cruise. So with four daughters tagging along we set sail.
We have celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas in the city many times over the years. Each time there are things that are the same; the floats, balloons, crowds, ice skating, the cold, Santa. And each time there is one thing that is constantly different; the kids. From Lucas’ first to Penny’s first to Oliver’s first each time brings new belief, understanding, complaining and appreciation. No matter how tired we are from lack of sleep, carrying the kids, standing in crowds and navigating amongst the tourists we know that once we are home we’ll only recall the best parts.
Sticky, bubbly, smooth, buttery, stretchy, tacky
Science and creativity
He was 36 when he told his wife, mother to his three young girls, that he wanted something bigger. The American dream was playing in everyone’s mind, including his. The Korean War had ended just twenty years before and Korea was not yet a first world nation. Despite his astute mind his family could not afford him a college education and without a college education opportunities were small and the social climb was impossible. America gave him hope and the promise of fulfilling a different destiny. My mom sold her wedding band to buy the plane tickets and with all their belongings packed into bags they left all they knew for possibility. We quickly moved from low-income housing to an apartment to our very own home, my parents both working blue-collar jobs until the day they retired. If you were to ask my 36 year dad if his American dream was to work as a welder for thirty years I’m sure his arrogance and ambition would shrug that thought away as an impossibility. But if you ask my 84 year old father if his American dream came true I’d imagine he’d say look at what my four children have borne, my dreams were replaced by theirs and each of their successes is mine and each of my eleven grandchildren’s successes are mine. If that isn’t a dream come true I don’t know what is.
Centered around the plaza, the town of Sayulita stretches roughly five blocks in each direction. Local artisan store next to hipster boutique next to the most amazing authentic Mexican food next to brick-oven pizza, each establishment unassuming and welcoming. What impressed me the most was the number of musicians that stroll the streets in search of an audience. Their music inoffensively lingering and picking up where another left off.