a malapascuan holiday

Last week:

1. My toes were buried in the sand.

2. I sat trying to write as the sun baked on my skin but eventually stopped as 

my thoughts were left clouded and disturbed.

3. I found it hard to switch off and it left me frustrated.

4. I watched the little one swim in the ocean for the first time, watched how his hair lightened in the 

mid morning sunshine and marveled at the sound of his laughter as he chased the waves. 

 5. I only finished one book.

6. I cheated on the diet that I was supposed to stay on but that garlic rice was so worth it.

7. I was made to choose between a friend and a husband on drunken night that went wrong. 

I didn't like how small it made me feel.

8. Not a fan of conflict, especially on holiday.

 Life is too bloody short for shit like that.

9. I saw Nemo and lots of starfish as we spent one afternoon snorkelling. But also greeted that

 fear of being in the middle of the ocean in a little moment of panic.

10. Old friends + happy hour. Moments to remember.

11. I watched my son play with the local children, who touched his golden hair and 

gazed at his white skin.

12. ... At the same time watched these kids as their smiles lit their beautiful faces 

when they spotted the camera. I still can't get over how genuine their smiles were.

13. I flirted with the husband as we reminisced about our honeymoon in Jamaica and shared a smile 

when we realised this was our tenth year together.

14. I promised myself that this getaway needed to happen more often. 

Another three years till the next one is too long.

15. ... And further realised that the husband and I need to go away as a couple more 

than we think we do.

16. I let my contentment overpower my distracted mind, after all, with this as my backdrop,

 what kind of fool did I play myself out to be?  so eventually, I let it all slip away.

a letter to the little girl lost

Dear me, 

You are sixteen. 

You are invincible.

Seemingly you are against the world and you stand eight feet tall.

But can I let you in on a little secret?

You really are only 5'1 and a half and you are only sixteen. A child, even if you believe otherwise.

Can I tell you that what you think you know now will phase out and that the world you believe in is just a dab of what is in store for you? 

The boy you are seeing isn't the one you swear you are going to marry. Stop crying over him and know that one day he'll break your heart, over and over again. 

The experiences you are going through isn't what shapes you. 

That your friends will not always be there through thick and thin. 

And the friends you hold onto and promise to grow up with are not the ones who will be by your side when you give birth to your first child. 

Your parents are not the enemies as you believe they are. 

That sneaking out makes your mothers heart palpitate in ways you could never imagine until you yourself become a mother. 

Would you believe me if I told you that one day you will find comfort in the walls of their own home, have a glass of wine with them once in a while, and that sometimes you'd rather hang out with them instead of a night in the club. 

That one day you will realise that your biggest bully and critic was actually yourself.

Yes, one day you will understand that blaming others for the depth of your insecurities was nothing more that your own despair for acceptance. You don't want to die like you think you do and your self worth is more than that you believe it to be. 

That your curves will make you the woman you are, that your dark hair and olive skin will one day be called exotic, that the perfection of beauty will never be as important as you believe it to be.

That one day a man will fall in love with your little legs that you hate, your thunder thighs that you always cover up, your love handles that you despise, and one day the man that you marry will believe you are the most beautiful girl he's ever laid eyes on. 

Can I share another secret? 

You don't know it all.

You really don't. You got to stop thinking you do.

And you know, one day you will miss your teenage years and wish that time didn't move so fast. So please stop wishing the time away, it really does go faster the older you get.  

Oh, and those baggy jeans and black lipstick you sport? Yeah, that phases out too. Believe me, it wasn't very attractive.

You are sixteen, darling.

If only you knew then, what you know now.

always, 

me {your thirty two year old self}

for Blogging from the Heart

But words are things, and a small drop of ink ...

"But words are things, and a small drop of ink, 

Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces 

That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

                                                  - George Byron

I'm writing again. Not pressing keys beneath my fingertips. Not watching words move across the screen as they come through my head. Not seeing letters disappear one at a time with one delete button as I decide the line didn't make sense and wasn't even worth keeping on the screen.

Writing.

Pen and ink.

Remnants of the blackness of the ink and a slight dent on my right ring finger from pressing too hard. 

Embossed paper, the depth of the letters causing a slight curl to the page.

 I trace my hand on the back of the page that was just written on and the familiarity of it all is overwhelming. Its the same feeling I get when I finish drawings, the same rush of emotions, the same creative satisfaction. And yet, my journal has been sitting on my shelf, untouched for a year. March 2011. That was my last entry. We are now into March of 2012 and my pages are still blank. Too many excuses, too little writing. That is an overpowering description of procrastination if you ask me. Either that or I made up to many excuses about not having the time to write. Perhaps I needed that time away, perhaps I needed to find the voice or perhaps I had nothing adequate to say. Or perhaps words weren't what I needed to focus on last year. 

Pen and ink. 

It's definitely essential for these elements to be a monumental part of my year.

 I know it.

For Blogging from the Heart.