If You Loved Me at All

New Year's Eve. New Year's Eve. So much to think about.  I thought about life.  And I thought about death. 

I thought it was my last night to sign up for Obamacare.  I had an extension, because I "lost" my job.  I thought the extension was until December 31st.  Papi came home and we started making dinner.  I had to pull the trigger on expensive, shitty healthcare (dismantled and fucked up for you and I by the Republicans).  I logged in to the platform, ready to put a $250 a month premium on my credit card.  I message came up.  I was outside the extension.  It ended on the 30th.

Papi started making pasta.  I tried to help.  It's New Year's Eve.  I played 'Sunspots', a Julian Cope song I loved when I was fifteen.  We take turns with music in the kitchen.  I thought of Margaret.

*Photo, Obliteration Room, Yayoi Kasuma
*Title, Julian Cope

Everything Is

My face felt horrible.  I woke up, and it was swollen on one side and when I scratched it, it bled.  I am well into my forties, but don't think I should be fat, wrinkled and experiencing some sort of cystic acne, face eating virus all at the same time.

I walked into the dark hallway and saw a couple of people already waiting.
"Is this where the test is?"  I asked, motioning toward the closed door with a sign on it. At the university that I have attended off and on, for more than twenty-five years.
They made a few monosyllables that indicated yes, barely looking up from their phones.
They looked young, but multicultural.  What a bunch of badasses, I thought.  They'll make amazing ESOL teachers.

They let us inside.  I watched as they wand-ed people, like at the airport.  Made them lift up pant legs, shirt sleeves, actually shirts.  A turban.  And then it was me, pulling my shirt up in front of a big window, raising my arms, pulling my pants' legs up, re-signing my name multiple times before they thought it matched.  I sat in front of that test for nearly four hours, after waiting a half an hour to get in, blowing of my break, just because I was afraid I would invalidate something or do something wrong and blow the whole, nearly three hundred dollar thing.  And the preparation I had done.  Yeah, I waited until a week before I was supposed to take the test to study, but when I did, I did bust some ass.  And, I am supposed to know this stuff anyway.

I stood in the Infinity Room, feeling like my feet weren't below me or that my head was above me.  The more I looked, the more I saw.  We were on a boat, that was floating, through everything.  Through infinity.  When I looked down, I saw the Blue Mosque.  When I looked far, I saw everything.  The heat hit my face.

I saw my sister, and we spoke and laughed.

I saw everything.

*Photo of Yayoi Kasuma's The Souls of Millions of Light Years Away, Infinity Mirrored Room.  

God Bless the Child

The holidays are upon us.  I usually like them, but I have been in high job hunting and making sure I am ready for taking classes in January mode. And, I was taking a test to add a field to my teaching certificate.  One of those long, multiple hour, multiple hundred dollar tests.  It's weird, I've taken them before, the GRE, the PRAXIS Spanish test so that I could teach it, my GACE Curriculum test -  the one that validated my degree and ensured I got an eight thousand dollar a year raise.  This new one though, one that shouldn't be difficult, for some reason was worrying me.

As I drove to the Housing Authority, my phone was exploding.  I thought it was about a different, gossipy thing.  I like gossip.
"Hilary, um, call me.  I don't want to text you this."
"Have you heard?"
"Hilary, call me back."
Finally, "Hilary, he's died.  I didn't want you to read it on Facebook or some weird email."

I put my phone down and started preparing to hand out pizza to the Housing Authority kids.  Every year, they have little parties all during the week before they get out for Christmas break.  I knew he was ill.  When they mentioned his name, I almost expected it.  I thought I had it together.

"I see trees of green, red roses too...." Tyrone sang.  He is one of my students.  They were making them practice for February's Black History celebration.
"I see them bloom for me and you...." he continued, low voiced and off key.
"And I think to myself, what a wonderful world..."

And then I cried.  And cried.  And I couldn't stop.

Warrior Pose

"Highs and Lows?"  I asked the students.

"My high was that we got extra recess today, my low, I got sent out of the room for throwing scissors at the teacher." Theo responded.

"What did you gain by throwing scissors at her?"

"What do you mean?"  he asked, genuinely.

"I mean, you like extra recess, did you get that for throwing scissors at her?"  I responded.

"No,  I got sent out."

"Did you like that?  Did you want to get sent out?  Did you get something you wanted, like extra recess?"

"I didn't want to do math.  So, yeah, I didn't have to do it."
He got his reward.

"The Christmas festival is this weekend.  That's my high.  We'll get presents...."
"Wait, when is it?"  Zoey asked.

"NO.  It's only for Muslims, because we don't get presents like you do."
I watched Zoey's face fall and felt completely pissed off that one low income kid would say that to another.

The days are shorter and grayer.  People ask me what I'm doing.  So, what I'm doing.  Still working in the projects.  Subbing when I feel like it.  Taking a bunch of classes in January and testing in to more endorsements on my teaching certificate.  Working shit out.

Being the best me I can be.