History

My grandma arrived this morning with gifts, as per usual. This time around, though, the gift wasn't a bathing suit or a top, a book or a watch. It was hundreds of years of family history in one little box.

This diamond first belonged to my great great great grandmother Raquel. She gave it to her eldest daughter, Anna, who gave it to her eldest daughter, Sara, who gave it to her eldest and only daughter, Liliana, who happens to be my grandmother. Lucky enough for me, my grandmother for some reason decided I would be the next to inherit this little treasure, perhaps because I'm the eldest granddaughter.

And so it has skipped a generation. Tears and a small box in hand, my grandmother ceremoniously took out this beautiful necklace and put it around my neck as the rest of my family sat on the kitchen counter looking on.

I'm not sure that it matters how much it's worth or even how absolutely perfect it is... But I'm overwhelmed. I'm overwhelmed by the tradition and history embedded into this piece of carbon turned to stone.

What did these women, whose blood I share but whose lives I know little of live through with this jewel around their neck? What sights has it seen? What experiences has it known? What hurdles has it gone through so that today it sits around my neck and not another eldest daughter's?

It's kind of crazy how such a tiny object can encompass so much.

I'm done. Done with the hardest semester of my life.
Feeling like a literal weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
The sun is out, its 75 degrees, and I'm ready to slip into absolute bliss.
Sleep, read, eat, repeat for the next month.
Life is so damn good.

Sometimes

I want to write the things no one can read

It was cold. Really cold. But we all came together to stand next to each other, subtly leaning for support, to listen to poems that made sense out of absolutely nothing under the moonlight. We patiently waited as one person lit the next's candle, struggling to keep the flame alive. What an unfortunately appropriate metaphor.

There are no words to express what happened on Friday in Newtown, CT because irrationality, outrage, absolute disbelief... Those are feelings we can seldom articulate properly.

Every time the wind extinguished the little light that we were hanging on to, someone made sure to walk over and offer some of their own. And that's an appropriate metaphor too.

We can't keep idly standing by as innocent children – children out of all people – get murdered. We can't pray anymore if it means we'll remain on our hands and knees. 

No one wanted to leave.

But the kids didn't either.

Something needs to change.

We shouldn't fear the end of the world.
We should fear that the world as we now know it won't end.

I know we're all going to feel this way one day...

I just hope it's soon.

And then maybe one little thing falls into place,
And maybe it's not that bad,
In fact,
Maybe – just maybe – life's pretty damn good.

Well,

Things could be worse.

But they could also be a lot better.