Day 13

 It was so cold that he just rolled over and stayed in bed. What good would it do to get up and walk around? Might as well just stay in and take in the heat.

He heard the sounds of the awakening house and would close his eyes whenever someone would walk by.

I'm just gonna stay here and wait until it gets a little warmer, he thought, and stretched his arms in a long, slow movement, letting them rest on his head when he was done.

The embodiment of sloth, someone said while walking by. He didn't mind, and stayed exactly where he was, and sighed. Someone laughed and walked on.

When he heard noises coming from the kitchen, his stomach spoke louder than his will to stay in, so he got up and decided to go get something to eat.

Breakfast!, she yelled, and had his plate already set up. He ate without looking to the sides and it was good.

Later on, spread out on the couch, someone came over to watch TV and pushed him aside.

That hurt his feelings a little, so he decided to get up and leave, but someone started caressing his ears, and he loved that too much to let it slide.

He let out a purr of satisfaction and spread himself all over someone's lap.

Oh, the joys of being a cat are endless.

Day 12

He lit a cigarette and walked towards me, moving effortlessly through the crowd.

-Hey. - he said, with a smug smile that drove me insane every time I saw him.

-Hi. - I replied, trying to look as cool as I could, under the circumstances.

-I would offer you one, but I know you don't smoke. - and took another long breath and let the smoke come out of his mouth, breathing in through the nose again and blowing it up to the air.

-Yeah, thanks. So, what's the deal with this line? - I said, trying to create some sort of coherent speech, which was an incredible ordeal, considering those rebel greenish eyes staring straight at my soul. Oh God, he could see right through me.

-I guess we're pretty popular. - again, with that smile. This time he turned around to check out the line and screamed his band name to the people in line. Everyone cheered. He knew how to work them.

-So, you said you were coming with some friends. Where are they?

I was wondering if he could see me shivering under my dress and how much I would love to have him ask me in with him, but I wouldn't seem that desperate.

-They couldn't make it. - I lied. They hated his band and specially him. Tara, my best friend, often said that he was, and I quote, "the douche of douches". I just think she doesn't know him that well.

-Well, glad to see we don't really need them, right? - and gestured towards the ever expanding line.

-I guess… - and smiled, trying to lean a little bit closer to the door to get away from the cold.

He threw his cigarette butt on the ground, crushed it with his steel-point boots and said "well, see ya inside" without even looking back.

I waved and stood there, obviously blind to the fact that he really didn't care that I was there.

But I knew he liked me. He just didn't know it yet.

Day 11

Would you trust someone who can't tell the difference between Brick Red and Bright Maroon? How could you rely on someone that looks at Desert Sand and Deep Champagne and blurts out, with no care, "they look the same to me"?

The world is full of those people, people that don't understand the subtlety between Fuchsia and Lilac, Ferrari Red and Fire Engine Red, between Gold yellow and Golden! How have we come to this?

Color names should be more important in our schools than naming past presidents, than math, than periodic tables! Who cares? I want my child to know that, whenever he needs something in Glaucous, he'll have to adjust his saturation to 47%. That's life right there! 

We need our kids to understand the underlying beauty between Rose Gold and Rose Vale. The thrill is in the details.

The world is crumbling, one crayon at a time. The foretold prophecies of apocalypse were misinterpreted. No four horsemen. No seven snakes. No sea of fire. The world will end in black and white and shades of grey. 

Hurry, before it's too late, go buy yourself a box of coloring pencils and learn all the colors. Someone will have to color the spaces when all is done.

Day 10

When you find yourself

Sinking

And the walls around you keep

Shrinking

When the stars seem to stop

Twinkling

Focus and go

When the tides seem too strong

When the last boat is gone

When all the answers are wrong

Focus and go

 It shouldn't be so hard to follow what you love.

Day 9

It was probably the hardest thing I had to do growing up. Draw the entire world. How do you ask that of a child? The entire world? I couldn't even fathom what the whole block was, how did Ms. Rothstein wanted me to draw the entire world?

I went home on a Friday afternoon, completely devastated. I knew I would have to spend the entire weekend and probably buy every single crayon imaginable to complete that impossible task.

I told my mom what was ahead of me, on the verge of tears, and she smiled and handed me a globe and said "this is reference. Do your best". I stood there, holding the globe, not understanding what she meant by 'reference'. Wasn't that a globe?

I ran upstairs, dragging the reference with me and sat at my desk.

I got the biggest piece of paper I could find and started outlining the continents.

So many of them! So many turns and knacks!

After what felt like an eternity, I could start coloring. Since my sister wasn't home, I sneaked into her bedroom and borrowed (without her consent) her box of coloring pencils.

I looked for the brightest blue I could find and start coloring the oceans, which took me almost a whole hour of hard labor.

It was a masterpiece. I wanted it framed and put on my wall. I wanted to run down the street holding it up and scream "Look! Look! This is the most beautiful thing you'll ever see!". I fought the urge to show it to my mom because I wanted to bring it back with a huge A+ written on it. The rewards would be sweet!

I couldn't sleep out of sheer excitement on Sunday night. It would be the very first time I would get an A in school and I was overjoyed with the possibilities. After the first A, everything would be a lot easier!

I had the drawing with me on the bus and didn't show to anyone, since I wasn't someone to brag.

When it came to Ms. Rothstein's class, I held my hand as high as I could so I would be the first pick. Obviously, she chose Andy Keenan, that brown noser. But I was second to show, and Andy's drawing had nothing on mine.

I stood up, proud as a peacock, and handed my drawing to Ms. Rothstein. She looked very serious for a while, looking up from the drawing directly at me and back at the drawing.

Then she said, in a terrible tone "Is this supposed to be a joke?" and turned the drawing to the class. Everyone laughed.

I couldn't understand what was wrong! Everything was perfect! All the countries were there, everything,every piece of land, even Antarctica, and the ocean was the purest blue!

All I could mumble was "What's wrong?" while looking at the floor. Ms. Rothstein wrote a gigantic F on my drawing and said "This oughta teach you a lesson next time you decide to paint the oceans green!"

It was a bad day to find out I was color blind.

Day 8

She gracefully opened the door and gestured that I should go in. The lights were dim and the windows of the living room were open, letting in the calm evening breeze.

I smiled and blushed. Said a shy "hello" and walked in, trying to capture that smell of her hair as I walked past.

Everyone was quiet and the loudest sound was that of my shoes hitting the ground. I removed them and someone unknown took them away. She showed me a chair, and placed her hand gently on my shoulder.

I sat and waited.

The walls hypnotized me. The patterns engraved on the velvet seemed to move and dance along with the candlelight and the smoke coming from the hookah made everything twirl and sing. My senses betrayed me and I found myself on the floor, examining the texture of the carpet.

Kind hands helped me up and took me into the bedroom, where I was placed gently on another couch and told to sit up.

They posed me like an art mannequin waiting to be studied. I felt like the outside of me was still life while the inside exploded in Expressionism.

Someone came near my ears and whispered softly "I'm glad I'm your first" while she took off my jacket and vest.

She kissed the side of my neck and said "let the butterflies burst". Oddly enough, that made absolute sense and I saw millions of butterflies burst out of my chest and fill the room with color and the sound of fluttering wings.

She laid on top of me and I felt carried by those million wings into a vortex of lust.

The next day, bright and early, I heard my father outside the bedroom saying "is he a man yet?" while some girls laughed. "Quite a stud", whispered someone while opening the door to the room.

"Son, get up. We got a company to run", my dad said.

But I was still counting the butterflies.

Day 7

-Remember that one time?
-When?
-Out on the pier.
-What pier? What the hell are you talking about?
-When we were kids and mom took us to the pier and bought us caramel apples, remember?
-I hate that day.
-Ha, come on. Just because that puppy licked your caramel apple?
-It wasn't a puppy. It was a rabid dog that attacked me.
-No, it was a 2 year old siberian husky that wanted to play with you and you freaked out and threw your caramel apple at it.
-Vicious dog. Hate them.
-Oh, come on, man! You're such a pussy.
-It was a scary day! And I hate dogs, you know that.
-No, you hate dogs BECAUSE of that day.
-Whatever.
-Seriously though, it kinda makes you wonder.
-About?
-Is it just me who finds it very odd that you hate dogs yet you're a vet?
-I like animals, what's the big deal?
-But you hate dogs?

-Doesn't mean I don't want to treat them and see them healthy.
-I think that, somewhere in that weird subconscious of yours, you became a vet so you would have a position of power over the animal who wronged you.
-"The animal who wronged you". Who are you, Hemingway?
-It does make a little bit of sense, you have to admit.
-No it doesn't. Shut up.
-Just saying, dude. You should have that checked out.
-You should have your face checked out.
-Nice comeback! Have you been working on it long?
-Screw you.
-Pissing you off is the best part of my day, baby brother.
-Knowing that you'll die first 'cause you're older is the best part of mine.
-I love you too.

Day 6

It all starts with a look. That faint glimmer that fades in an instant but means so much more. You understand what's happening but life has showed you that it may hurt, so you tend to ignore it. But it's there, imprinted in your brain.
You look left and right, down to the floor, suddenly obsessed by the buttons on your shirt just to convince yourself that you actually didn't see anything. Then you look up and it's there again. And all you can think of is "oh, crap".
Things would be a lot simpler if we could just say what we needed. Relationships would end faster? Maybe. Feelings would get hurt more often? Probably. But forgiveness would come a lot sooner if honesty was at the forefront of every interaction.
The days, weeks that would be saved without the need to impress somebody, just by being able to say "you're interesting" without sounding cheesy.
So you take another sip of whatever is giving you the push that night and you do the most courageous thing you can think of and say Hi.

Day 5

To be read while listening to Pelo Negro by Tosca Tango Orchestra

What if you wake up and realize that your life was just the first act in a symphony and every note was a decision that should be made and sometimes it was right and sometimes it was wrong and they molded who you are and you feel like the whole world is riddled with paranoia and anxiety and you feel like your life was the fast part of a tango right after the lover's quarrel and doesn't matter how softly the piano plays you still know that what you had is gone forever and won't ever be the same just like that feeling of security you had when you were a kid listening to the beach boys on the radio and imagining lands far and beyond where the sun shined 24/7 non stop forever and nobody wanted to chase you down and harm you or call you bad names or admit to you that they love your sister more than you and that your whole existence was a mistake and what if you decided that all that abuse was enough and bought a shotgun from that weird guy that used to hang around school and took it home and while you were figuring how to use you almost shot off your foot and you had a big hole on the floor and what if somebody heard the noise and came up and you jumped out of the window and ran as far as you could so that the bullets wouldn't find you and what if you your life was misery after that until you found someone who showed you were to get the best free food in town and what if she was a really kind soul and was too scared to understand what love was but you said it anyway and she replied and what if all that happened before was just a really fucked up dream and what if you would just wake up?

Day 4

Waiting

She hoped to be useful. To be big, bold, to be…what's the word? Majestic! To be majestic.

She laid in hope of one day being a reference, of being chosen to be the bearer of secrets, to be protection.

She longed for the distant future, where people would measure their accomplishments by her size.

And so she waited.

Days went by. Moon cycles. Seasons. Lifetimes. And there she sat, waiting for the right time.

Finally, a glimmer of hope. She hanged to that one beam of light with all her might and, not minding the rime, sprung outwards.

It was a hard battle. The world is cruel to the younglings, but she stood her ground, placed herself firmly and pushed up.

Everything was so bright and she wanted to hug the world, but had to keep pushing out. She would be great, and beautiful, and majestic.

After a year or so, she considered her battle won. No one would move her. No one would shake her ground. But they came.

In massive waves, with loud tools that hurt her flesh and ropes and chains. She didn't stand a chance.

Now, that once proud tree was cut down in bits and pieces for the comfort of a much more fragile race.

If she still had a conscience, she would probably be glad to see that at least she wasn't a knife handle, or a shoulder rest on a rifle,

or the handle on an ax.

A hanger wasn't majestic, but at least it was harmless.

day 3

Message #1: Hi, I'm Kasey. Found your phone at the laundromat and this was listed as "cell 2" in your contacts. Figured I should send you a text to see if I could return it to is rightful owner. Hope you get back to me! :-)

Message #2: Hi, thanks so much for doing this! Yes, that was my phone and I would be completely lost without it. Hope I can repay your kindness somehow. Where do you want to meet so I can get it back and maybe buy you a cup of coffee?

Message #3: It's weird that your reply was sweet but I didn't get your name. I can't trust a person who won't trust me with their name. Guess I'm keeping this awesome phone to myself!

Message #4:My bad. Anthony. My friends call me John. Don't ask my why, it's an old inside joke. Trust me a little more now?

Message #5: Not yet. I need to know a little more about yourself. And who the hell has two first names? You have some explaining to do, mister!

Message #6: Look who's talking, Miss "I got a stranger's phone and I won't return it unless I make sure he's worthwhile"! Well, I won't share the story about how I got the nickname because it's very personal and kinda embarassing. So, how about that coffee?

Message #7: I'm all for the embarassing. When I was 8, during a field trip to the pumpkin patch I saw a mouse and just freaked out and wouldn't stop crying until my teacher took me to the bus. Now that I'm sharing, I'm an art student by heart, but a lawyer by trade. Just moved to town 2 months ago. I like cold days, dogs, wine and coffee makes me move. What about you?

Message #8: Didn't your mom tell you that it's very rude to answer a question with another question? And thanks for sharing, by the way. I'm not that interesting. I work in retail, down by Lake Ave. That's just a fancy way of saying that I sell rich women the clothes they'll wear once and toss aside. I love dogs, wine and to make this the cheesiest of answers, long walks on the beach.

Message #9: Uhm, does that mean you get a discount in clothes? You suddenly became extremely interesting! How about that coffee? ;-)

Message #10: Ha, very funny. That was all you got from that text? You know what, you can keep that phone. I knew I was nothing but a toy to you from the start. Oh, the horror!

Message #11: But baby, it was always more than just clothes and coffee for me! You know that! ;-) But still...where do we meet?

Message #12: there's a coffee place two blocks away from the laundromat. Wanna meet there? Tomorrow around 2 pm? And how come you're an art student and lawyer? How does that work?

Message #13: family choice. Dad wanted a lawyer in the family, but my brother decided to be a musician instead and became the black sheep. Since we couldn't have two black sheeps in the same flock, I took the "easy" way out. But art is what I love. Shh, don't tell my dad. And 2 pm would be great.

Message #14: I know what you mean. I left home when I was 15 because I couldn't stand the pressure to become a doctor. Now I share an apartment with 5 other people and work a minimum wage job. Dad would be proud :-/

Message #15: But I'm sure your passion isn't selling clothes to rich women. What moves you?

Message #16: Getting my phone back is a big incentive to move!

Message #17: I honestly want to know. What pushes you forward?

Message #18: I just realized that I'm paying for all these messages myself cause they're both coming from phones I OWN! Oh god...

Message #19: Nice way to avoid the question. I'll have someone deliver the phone to you tomorrow.

Message #20: Sorry, didn't mean to sound rude. I do have a passion but it's kinda lame, that's why I don't usually share it. Would you mind coming in yourself tomorrow and we'll talk a little?

Message #21: Only if you tell me what you really want to do.

Message #22: here it goes:I bake cakes. Big, rich, creamy, wedding-style cakes.

Message #23: What a relief! For a while there I thought you would say something like pornography or drugs. Cake is not so bad! Phew...

Message #24: "cake is not so bad". Don't know if that's a compliment or not, but thanks, I guess. So yeah, the secret's out. Can we wrap this up?

Message #25: Not so fast. You didn't explain John.

Message #26: You didn't explain art student.

Message #27: I guess we should meet and clarify these topics.

Message #28: So we shall. Just for that. Oh, And please bring the phone.

Message #29: I almost forgot:-)

Message #30: Guess that would be another reason to meet some other day. Come to think of it, you should forget to bring the phone.

Message #31: I do have a terrible memory.

Message #32: Perfect.

day 2

Eight days and 23 boxes later, I was done. With everything packed away the room didn't look so small.  The smell was still there, though.
It smelled like Sunday mornings, like old typewriter ribbons, like very strong coffee.
I could still make out his shape sitting at his desk, glass of water sitting dangerously at the edge, the sides of his hands black because of newspaper ink.
I remember sitting next to him and playing quietly on the ground while listening to him scribble endlessly on his papers.
My first book was an old edition of The Jungle Book. I was mogli for Halloween. It was the coldest October in 20 years and there was I, barefoot and shirtless walking from house to house with the greatest smile on my face.
He looked at me and just laughed at everybody's face of astonishment when they saw me.
He brought me home and drew a hot bath to make sure I didn't catch a cold. When obviously I did, while I was in bed, he brought me a copy of Robinson Crusoe and wrote on the back " it could be worse. You could be stranded in an island with no books. "
I would always get books for my birthday. I would get the regular gifts, the occasional football, a tee ball kit. But books were always the icing on the cake.
When he fell ill, I was 800 miles away. When my mother told he'd lost his sight, my world shattered.
I knew that would drive him crazy, so I did the best I could. I sat on my desk at school and read him his favorite books over a tape recorder.
He left halfway through American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. I wish I could say his last book was The Great Gatsby or something more profound, but I had been turning him on to newer authors and he seemed to like it.
While I was packing, I fold this old envelope in the back of the bookcase. It had my name on it and my birthday on the back. It read " son,
You just arrived. I can't stop shaking of joy, please forgive these squiggles. When you have your own kids you'll understand.  I love you. You deserve the world. That's why I'll teach you how to discover everything you'll ever need in the confines of your own mind. I love you. I don't know what I should do first, but I think I'll get you a book. What am I thinking, you can't even hold your head up yet! But I know I love you. Every page ever written is meant for you.
Read all you can. That's the best advice I can give you. I love you. Welcome".
I sat there on his office floor, almost in the same place I used to when i was a kid and cried.
After taking the boxes to the car, I sat on my car and opened my copy of The Jungle Book and wrote " son, this is the greatest gift my dad ever gave me. Happy birthday" and I drove away home with my dad on my mind. 

day 1

When the phone hit the pavement I felt like it was the end of everything. The end of something that should've been great. The end of what could've been.
I picked the pieces but knew it wouldn't matter. It was a smartphone, but not smart enough to survive a drop.
Running from the rain, I went back the three blocks to the cafe where what ended had started.
I sat at the same table overlooking the lake and ordered a peppermint mocha just because it was that time of year. You know, when you should be with your family, loved ones, people that cared.
But the family was gone and so were loved ones.
I put the pieces of that high tech puzzle on the table in front of me on a childish attempt to put it back together. All I needed was a number. 7 digits that could save my life. A connection to a beautiful smile and a kind heart. But it was far beyond prayer. Phones aren't very religious.
As I drank my mocha, considering how drenched I would get by walking in
the rain to my apartment, the little bell on the door rang.
I turned my head slightly, not paying much attention, and froze.
Suddenly everything made sense and as cheesy as it may sound, some clouds dissipated and I could the see the blueish winter sky through the cafe's windows.
She walked in, grabbed her umbrella, thanked the server and turned around to leave.

I sprinted towards her, spilling my drink and caught her right outside the cafe door. When she recognized me, her smile greeted me and before she could formulate anything i kissed her like there was no other thing I'd rather do, maybe because there wasn't.
After catching her breath she said " I thought you said you'd call".
"I felt like being more direct.", said I, smiling as if I had won the lottery, which I had.
She laughed and blushed, and said "ok, now you HAVE to call me".
I took her arm and said "sure, just walk with me to the nearest cellphone shop".

day 0

-you should come see this, she said, kneeling on the rough patch of grass outside her house.

• I stumbled towards her, clumsy as only a 12 year old can be.
  • -what did you find?, said I, trying my best not to show that I was shivering out of excitement just by being around her.
  • -It's a four leaf clover, she said, while astonishment glimmered in her eyes.
  • I took one quick glance at it but got distracted by the way her hair moved in the soft spring breeze
  • -I'm gonna go tell my dad about it, maybe we can take a picture!, she said, and ran off inside the house.
  • She left me standing there, looking directly at that thing, that green fluke, that somehow was supposed to be magical.
  • And I knew that they meant good luck. Somewhere in my 12 year old, luck translated into a wish, so I knelt beside that clover, ripped it out of the ground and ate it.
    she came back holding an old plastic camera, with antecipation in her eyes
    • -Where is it?
      • Me, not looking directly at her, still with some dirt in the corner of my mouth, kneeling on the ground, said: - I wish you would kiss me.
      • The anticipation turned into understanding once she realized what had happened. Without saying a word, she turned around and went into her mom's gardening shed.
      • She came back with a small shovel, a rake and a bag of seeds and put them in front of me.
      • -Grow me another four leaf clover and I'll give you your kiss
        And that was the day I planted my first kiss.