San Valentín

As I walked down the stairwell and toward the exit, I heard a whisper behind me. "You're going to walk around that park, aren't you?" I turned to see kinder George alone in the hallway. "I see you going there from my house" he said, smiling coyly. He looks like my brother did when he was little, when we were little. "You're right, I am going to the park" I admitted, glancing out of the window at the lowering sun. "Do you think I'll make it before it gets dark?". "It's going to rain" he responded . "The spider is back in the bathroom. Not the first one, a new, brown one".

The city of Atlanta inexplicably decided to throw gravel all over the ice covered roads during our January snow storm, instead of putting something down that might dissolve and vanish when the ice went away, as other states do. Over a month later, cars continue skidding on the gravel covered roads throughout the neighborhood. Funny that rocks don't just go away when the ice vanishes. Parts of the roads began disintegrating as soon as the ice started to melt, just like Tijuana after the rains.

I watched the two second news report of the attack on the female journalist. I'm not sure why in a moment of extreme jubilation and unprecedented liberation it would enter anyone's head to celebrate by beating the living shit out of a random person and forcibly shoving their dick in her while she more than likely screamed, cried, bled, kicked and fought. I really don't celebrate that way. It actually doesn't even enter my mind.

"Okay so make the valentine for whoever you want, your mom, your dad...." I instructed. "I don't have a dad!" Greg exclaimed, "I have two moms!". The other twenty children did not react in any way, just looked at me blankly and awaited my response. I looked into his concerned face and for the first time in a long while my heart opened up with love and admiration for the tortuous place I work in. "Make it for your moms, Greg. They'll love it" I answered.

I think about the hand print stained windows in the visitor's area at the detention center a lot now that we don't have to go there anymore. Do people still claw at the glass, desperately trying to touch a loved one? Does the little boy still sit alone in the chair on Sundays saying "Papí, te quiero, te quiero" through the telephone while his mom looks on and cries?

Greg smiled happily and started cutting out two small red hearts.