Monday, July 22, 2013

Through the Eyes of an Innocent

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to celebrate the quintessential American holiday, 4th of July, with my husband. It was important because 1.) this was my first 4th of July in two years, and 2.) this was my husband's first 4th of July ever.

Sometimes I take for granted all of the things that Americans have or participate in, and I push it to the wayside because it's quite normal for me (even after being outside of the country). But there are so many times that my husband is literally experiencing something for the first time in his mere 25 years. Things such as fireworks, playing corn hole, going to food festivals, watching parades, and the like are all events that my husband has rarely or never experienced. And being able to stand next to him and experience all of these things through his eyes is a test in almost pure innocence. There are so many times where he is like a child, having the ability to see something in its purest and rarest form.

There are moments where I try to make him understand that something is normal for me, or for Americans. But he always gently reminds me that he has never had that experience, or has never been able to see something until that specific moment.

I try to remember this when I'm doing something like trying to plan our vacation. I promised my husband about a year and a half ago that I would take him to Washington, D.C. I've been there before when I was 14 years old, but being from a different country, my husband simply hasn't had the ability or pleasure to travel much. We traveled a lot when we were overseas, which makes me feel almost obligated to take advantage of the times when we can travel - be it when we have money and before we have children. There are so many places I want to take him, but are not financially possible right now.

We decided on D.C. after much discussion. We threw around - literally - 10 different places and finally settled on D.C. for multiple reasons. D.C. is a good place to vacation because it's close to where we live so we can drive there easily, it has a ton of things to do and most of them are free, and we can get a good deal if I use Priceline to find a nice hotel at a reasonable price.

I'm already preparing myself to live through this upcoming vacation through his eyes. I can't wait to see all of the monuments and museums in a new and different light. I'm happy that I'm able to see things in a different way - it's almost like having an innocent 25-year-old child who works and helps me pay the bills.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

When I Look At You, I See Myself.

Sometimes I look at my husband and I wonder how much life would be different if he was not who he is and I am not who I am.

It often amazes me that we actually ever met at all - and all of the things that had to happen before we met in order for us to come together in the correct moment. I guess it's all Fate. Now, if you know me at all, you know that I believe in soul mates. I often look at my husband and I can see that he is exactly me, mirrored in a male, Latino body and mind. Before our wedding ceremony, we met with the officiant and he asked us one simple question: "Why him? Why her?" At first, I joked with a silly answer but then I told him how I really felt - that my husband and I are the same, exact person. Sometimes it is scary how similar we are, and how I can know exactly what he is thinking or feeling without even saying words.

Now, my husband might deny this next fact, but I will tell you that it is 100% truth. We are both extremely, maybe overly, emotional people. I'd say that my husband tries to hide his emotions or pretend that he doesn't care about something, but I know deep down he is excited, or sad, or angry, or whatever feeling that comes with the situation.

Every single day I feel extremely lucky that I have my husband. If anything, he complements and completes me. He's supportive and helpful, encouraging and loving, wonderfully committed and equally as impatient as me. We spend countless hours playing games, laughing, competing against each other while watching Jeopardy, just being together in each others presence - all of which has solidified and cemented our already tight relationship.

Three years ago, I couldn't have imagined that my life would end up like it is now. Life seemed to have panned out exactly how it was supposed to - and after spending almost two years in a country that equally lovely and violent - my husband became my true love and my protector. To this day, he still says that he will protect me - even when we walk the safe streets of our apartment complex. There is nothing dangerous about it, but he falls easily into that role. It is traits like that which I know will make him a great father.

Last night, I had a moment where I shot up from my sleep not being able to breathe - I was gasping for breath, very scared and confused on what was happening. Now that I think about it, I think it was some kind of reflux from stupidly drinking water while laying down that settled in my esophagus rather than my stomach, but in that moment it was truly terrifying. It probably only lasted less than five seconds, but I've never seen my husband move so fast - he was literally out of the bed, running to the closet and grabbing the bucket in case I threw up in that short time. It was scary, but also equally endearing that my husband's first reaction was one to grab a bucket so we didn't ruin our carpet in case I vomited everywhere.

Sometimes I wish that words were enough to tell my husband how much I appreciate, care about, and love him. He is truly my knight in shining armor, my one true love, the man that I will have babies with, and grow old with together. I'm proud of him for doing all of the things he has accomplished in the past few years, especially being willing to move with me to a new, different country where things haven't always been the easiest. And when we argue, as all married couples do, we can only stay mad at each other for 10 - 20 minutes, tops. But it's always funny to me when he swears to "really get mad at me," when I know that it's literally impossible.

Because all I have to do is give him a hug and all is right with the world.

Love you, Javito.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013


You know, life seems to move way too fast sometimes.

In the past 5 months, I've moved to a different city, started a new job, gotten married, thought about going back to school, applied for my teaching license, watched my husband get his first job in the USA, and a thousand of other little things that just seem like a blur as time as passed by so incredibly quick - quicker than I thought possible.

Every single year, I tell myself to blog, to write, to take the time to measure the moments more heavily by reflecting upon them more deeply. But, as you know, life moves at a quick pace and sunsets turn into sunrises so fast that Monday is suddenly Friday and January is suddenly May.

But this weekend, as I was taking the time to soak in the weather and the sights and quality time with my family at an art fair, we walked past a booth for a Writer's Guild and my mom point-blankly told me that I'm a good writer, and did I still write? When my answer - because you already know my excuse, "life is too fast," - was a negative one, she told me that I should continue to write because I'm a good writer. It made me really think, and all of the memories came flooding back - the ones of me sitting in the dark in front of a computer screen during my angst-y teenager years as well as all of the times I spent in college classes doodling down verses to poetry that I would never look at again. I have piles of "journals" where I wrote stories - so many stories - that never went anywhere except the lines of those pages. I have stacks of poems written for people, about people, about situations and feelings and so many things that I cannot even remember who or when or how those poems came to being.

A lot of times I tell myself that my life is particularly boring or mundane or normal, and no one - I mean, no one, will want to read about my day-to-day stories about work or students or my personal life. And I find that I'm often very long-winded when I write, which I guess is not something that attracts readers, in general. It's like I have so much bottled up inside that after months of not writing, all of it comes spilling out in a regurgitation-type style of writing.

My point of all of this is that I want to promise that I will continue to blog, but it has to be an ever-present thing on my "to-do" list - because, let's be honest, I might forget tomorrow or next week that this blog exists - and I desperately want to remember because years from now, I want to look back and reminisce about those moments that I took the time to really reflect upon. Because those will be the memories that will mean the most - when memories fade, words stay. And I can always look back at words, when my memory doesn't suffice anymore.