Still Writing!!

Hello my loyal blog followers!!

I know I haven't posted anything in a while. But do not fret, my pets!!
I'm still writing, only now a lot of my pieces are being published on a friend's website.
Here's the link to all of my current articles: http://www.queeriebradshaw.com/.
Hope you enjoy and thanks for stopping by!!

Jessenia :o)

My Letter To Santa....

Dear Santa,

What’s up? It’s your home-girl Chena. You know……from New Campo where we spent our first eight years of niña mugrosa to Santo Close relationship in apartment number 52. Broleña. Yea? No? Maybe so? Well anyways, I was catching up with my correspondence and since it’s been a while since I’ve written, I thought “why not write to you?’ Perfect time of year que no?!

Anyways, Nomas estaba escribiendo para desirte que I don’t really need anything this year. Tu sabes. I’ve got mi familia, amigos, and puros bendiciones que no me falta nada. Pues aves en cuando nesecito dinero, but you know how that goes.

But in all truth and honestly, I just wish for the happiness and wellness of those I love. All of my friends and family. Past, present, and futuro. Including our pets - cause you know how much I love dogs right? Anyways, you know I pray to my Diosito every now and then and ask for the same but I figured you two can work on that. Oh and please take care of my mommy. I still call her mommy after all these years. Ya estoy vieja (nat really) pero I still love to call her mommy. She is the most generous person with her heart that I have ever met. You have no idea, Santa, how much I love her. And how much all of her kids love her. So make her happy this Christmas and many many many more Christmases to come.

Oh and one more thing if that’s ok. I have a friend who could really use your cheerful spirit. I think you know who I’m talking about. So can you spread a little cheer for my friend to hear? Bring joy in my friend’s life and show my friend that life is still worthwhile. Even if I’m not there to show my friend how happy life can be, then maybe send someone who can really show it. Ok ya es todo. Thanks for listening mang. Meri Crismas!! Hasta luego!!


La Chena
Haha!!

For Cooper....

I wrote the following poem titled “Paw Prints in the Sand…” for my boss’ dog who I had the privilege to dog-sit often. I’ve always wanted a big dog (not to say that I don’t love my small Bitsey – because I love her very much even though my mom kept her when I left for college) but have been too afraid to take on the financial responsibility of having one. So, my boss let me take on the role of step-mom to Cooper for the past four years and together, Cooper and I had many adventures. One of his favorite things to do was go to dog beach in Solona Beach where we often visited and played around in the water and sand. Unfortunately, Cooper was diagnosed with stage 4 lymphoma cancer in the spring of this year. He put up a fight but couldn’t fight any more and passed away on November 27. Since today was my boss’ birthday, I decided to write a little poem reflecting Cooper and surround it by a collage of photos of him as a gift. A few photos of Cooper are posted below as well as the poem I wrote. Note: Scully was Cooper’s sister. She passed away four years ago at the age of 8 and was also golden retriever.

Paw Prints in the Sand...

Dear Mom and Dad

I’m sorry I couldn’t stay forever
I really wish I could
I’m having so much fun here
And I promise I’ve been good!

There’s so much to do here
Everything is big and grand
Oh and I even get to
Leave my paw prints in the sand!

Guess who I saw the other day!
I saw Scully running around
She immediately recognized me
Now we’re always adventure bound!

There’s no such thing as “dog beach”
Just a beach for all who love this land
So Scully and I are running around
Leaving our paw prints in the sand!

I know you must really miss me
And trust me, I miss you more
You were the best parents a dog could have
And who loved me to the core

I think of you every single day
Even when I’m out on the strand
Remembering our fun times together
Of leaving paw prints in the sand

Love,
Cooper

By: Jessenia Lua

The Best Part of Me…

....is my family. I don’t really know how to start this blog without getting straight into the topic I want to write about. So, I’m just going to jump into it.

This weekend I will be traveling to Brawley, CA to visit my family. For those of you who may not know, I moved to San Marcos, CA when I was 20 years old to attend college. After I graduated, I moved to Oceanside, CA and have been here ever since followed by a quick cameo living in Vista, CA for a year. I love living in Oceanside. It’s 5 minutes away from my job in Carlsbad and I often go to the beach a few times a week, if not everyday. But the best part of living an independent life of my own here is that it’s close to my hometown of Brawley. A 2 ½ hour drive and I’m there. Most of my beautiful family still resides in Brawley.

Between all of us, our family occupies 6 homes throughout Brawley. That’s 6 homes I get to visit when I’m there, but only get to around 2 or 3 on short visits haha!! And it all began with my little short Mexican mother, Carmen. There are so many wonderful things I could say about my mom, but I’m afraid it would take me a couple of years. So I’ll shorten it for the purpose of this blog.

My parents had 8 kids. That’s a lot. I’m number 7. Based on the differences between our ages, I always say that they had their first 5 kids within a matter of years, took a 10-year break, and had the last 3. I have no clue how my mother did it. What makes her even more unbelievable is that she still remains the most amazing mother after losing her husband (my dad) and her oldest son (my brother). She’s funny, she’s caring, she’s an angel, and she would do anything for any of her kids. One of the best things I loved about her when I was a kid is when I would rest my head on her chest hearing her heartbeat and she would be singing or talking. I would feel the vibrations of her voice and heartbeat through my muffled ear. It felt so comforting and it felt like home. Sometimes I still do rest my head on her chest. No matter how much older I get, there are times where I still feel like that little kid coming home after school happy to see my mom.

Then there’s the rest of the family. Since there is a big age difference between the first 5 born and the last 3, I got to grow up with wonderful older influences. My 4 older sisters sometimes felt like my 4 extra mothers helping raise me and my brother Edgar and sister Vanessa. And there was definitely no question in the type of fatherly influence I had when my late oldest brother Chava stepped in after our dad passed away.

I feel as if my mom showed us all how to love. It’s a strong and forgiving love. And when her children carried/still carry all that love with us, it left us open to love someone else. And that someone else became/becomes our husbands, wives, children, and even best friends. You don’t have to be blood related to feel the love my mom gives. Just ask any of my or my brother and sister’s friends. She’s the ultimate Mama Lua. And even though we’re all off busy with our own separate lives and families, not too much time passes by before we get together to celebrate a birthday (and trust me, there are a lot of birthdays!!), a holiday, or just a Sunday get together to eat menudo or posole.

I know I always say that I still want to live in a different country for every year I'm in my 30’s to work and explore other cultures, but I think I yearn that adventure because I know what I have in my family to come back to. I don’t think I would feel secure nor have the courage to explore the world if I didn’t have my family to fall back on. They will always be my safety net with open arms.

And so we’ll gather this weekend in Brawley to celebrate my sister Rosa and her husband Chelino’s 30th wedding anniversary. I’ve been told that a lot of extended family is coming. Maybe even some from where I was born in Yuba City, CA. I’m completely looking forward to it and excited to see everyone. So I whimsically dedicated this blog to my extended family I don’t get to see everyday like my cousins Elizabeth (Chu), Sarah, Sal, Mariely etc. But most importantly to the following:

My mom and Dad – Carmen and Rafael Lua (passed away in 1995)

First born my sister Mary, her husband Rodrigo, and their daughter (my partner in crime) Marybel Torres (27)

Second born my sister Rosa, her husband Chelino, their kids Josh (28), Johana (24), and Giovani (20)

Third born my late brother Salvador (aka Chava – passed away in 2001), his wife Sylvia, and their daughter Miniquis (13)

Fourth born my sister Lupe, her husband Tony, their kids Gessell (16 and my god-daughter), Brandon (about to be 13), and Savina (3).

Fifth born my sister Carmen, her husband Joel, and baby Miranda on the way.

Sixth born my brother Edgar (29), his soon-to-be wife Jeannette, and their son Diego (1 and my god-son)

7th born is me (28) haha!! No husband, no kids, no thanks haha!!

And lastly but definitely not least 8th born my sister Vanessa (24) and working her way through Cosmetology school.

Of course let me not forget life’s extra blessings within our family: close family friends like Connie, Rene, and others. Close friends of mine like Andrea, Felipe (my mom still says you have sexy legs), Jorge, Edna, Melissa, Vanessa, Steven, Karla, Jennifer, etc. – who my family still asks about from time to time. Although, Andrea pretty much has our last name permanently engraved in her heart because she’s been around us so long. My brother’s friends who my mom adores: Raymond, Pete, Monster (Richard), Lodi, etc. My sister Vanessa’s friends like Michelle and Claudia. And a few others I might have forgotten to mention.

You all make life worthwhile!! Thank you for reading!!

Jessenia :o)

Red Tide Waves

Last night I saw what was probably the most beautiful and natural thing I have ever seen in my entire life. This may be old to coastal living people, but it’s definitely new to me. I’ve been living close to the beach for about 8 years now and I have never heard about this natural phenomenon until this week.

This past Monday, I was driving on the 101 Highway (beach route in Carlsbad, CA) before getting to work and I noticed the water looked very murky. It had this red/rust color and did not look at all tempting to get in, when usually it does. I get to work and I tell my boss about it and he begins to tell me that the change in color in the water is cause by a phenomenon called “Red Tide.”

“Red Tide” (also known as algal bloom) “in an event in which a large concentration of aquatic microorganisms accumulate rapidly through the surface of the water resulting in discoloration. When these microorganisms are present in high concentrations, the water appears to be discolored or murky, varying in colors from purple to almost pin, normally being red or green.”

However, at night when it’s completely dark, when the waves break, an illuminating blue/green glow is seen as the water hits the shore. “The light is emitted by a bioluminescent organism producing energy released from the chemical reactions occurring inside the microorganisms.”

Also, if you step on the sand where the water hits, the sand lights up with every step. See in posted video!!

It is truly and honestly such a sight to see!! I drove past “The Strand” in Oceanside (which is a street you can drive on right next to the beach) and I saw huge waves lighting up as they crashed on the shore. It literally took my breath away and I was left so in awe of the whole thing. I stood there thinking I wish I had someone with me because I felt like it was too good to be true. It was absolutely beautiful. Sort of like a natural light show the ocean was performing. The videos and photos I posted don’t do it justice. It’s a sight you’d have to see to believe. So if you’re in the San Diego area, please go out tonight to see the glowing waves :o)

Thanks for reading,
Jessenia :o)

Mexico - Part 1

To this day I still have ideas about writing a book based on my family and our assimilation towards the “Mexican-American” lifestyle and transition to the U.S. I’m a first generation Mexican-American child of my parents and being the 7th out of 8 children, I’ve always noticed a difference between the dialect of the first born to the last. The difference is noticeable because the first four children were born in Mexico, while the last four were born in the U.S. There’s so much I want to say about the way my parents raised us and the sacrifices everyone went through to get to where we are today, that sometimes I don’t know where to start. But in the mean time, I would like to share the experience I remember so vividly when my family and I visited the country I am so proud to be from….Mexico.

Growing up in Brawley, CA and being so close to the border brought many trips to Mexico; especially Mexicali. Saturday trips to Mexicali to visit family, purchase cheap meds or other necessities was a common occurrence with my parents, while weekend trips to San Felipe, Rosarito, Ensenada, etc enriched my culture even more. But there was one trip to Mexico I will never forget. I will never forget the time we went to Rio Grande, Zacatecas and Cotija, Michoacán.

First off, let me just say that I’m not as cultured as I wish I could be in my Mexican background. And that’s no one’s fault. I’m a product of my family and where I was raised. It’s up to me to keep my culture and enrich my soul with the things I feel are missing in my current life as I wrote in this blog a couple of years ago "Why Do They Make Us Jump A Border?" I will never deny where I’m from, what my background is, where my family comes from and I will never understand how some people can do that. I’ve heard so many people say, who are of Mexican ethnicity, that they are not Mexican but instead are just American. My first response to that is “You are an American Citizen, but you are Mexican.” And yet they continue to deny that. I will never understand it. It’s like they’re refusing to acknowledge their entire existence that brought them here to the U.S. It was their ancestors who made sacrifices to get to the U.S. so that they can ignorantly call themselves American. When they say they’re American, but not Mexican, they erase the struggle that brought them there in the first place. It’s ridiculous and a way bigger issue to discuss in this nostalgic memory of my trip to Mexico, so I will leave it at that and save it for another blog.

Anyway, as I was saying…..

I remember I was about 10 years old in 1993 and was in the fifth grade. My sister Carmen was getting married to a very nice man named Joel and the wedding was going to be held in his hometown of Rio Grande, Zacatecas. It was around mid-December and we weren’t going to return back to the U.S. well after winter break from school was over, so I knew I was going to miss school, which got me very excited haha!! I couldn’t tell you how long of a flight it was. I couldn’t tell you because we drove haha!! It was a long two day trip. A bunch of my family bunched up in one blue van which was driven by my sister Rosa and her husband Chelino, while my dad, my mom, my brother Edgar, youngest sister Vanessa, and I rode in my dad’s brown truck that had a red camper attached to it. I will never forget that two day trip. I remember I wanted to make it as comfortable as possible, so I packed on as many blankets and pillows as I could. In the front seat were my mom and my dad who always drove. And in the back truck bed with the camper attached were my brother Edgar (11), my sister Vanessa (6), and myself (10). The only thing connecting my parents with us kids in the back was this tiny sliding window which was kept open the whole time. We couldn’t hear any music they were playing unless we stuck our head through there. And everytime I did, I would hear my parents listening to Ranchera or Mariachi music and I always remember looking at the open Coca Cola soda can my dad always drank. It was his caffeine and he said it’s what kept him awake the whole time while driving.

I will always remember this clever thing my mom did before we left to Mexico. I saw her taking a pair of my brother Edgar’s pants and sow a wad of money into each pocket. I asked her why she was doing that and she answered “En caso si algo pasa.” (In case if something happens). I don’t know why, but that moment will always stay in my head and I thought it was so smart of her to do that.

I don’t remember stopping at a hotel for the night but I do remember we stopped somewhere along the way after a long day of driving. I can picture a bright lit up gas station and our two cars parked right next to eachother. I don’t remember how we accommodated ourselves to laying down to sleep, but I do remember how crowded it felt. It was so crowded that I remember seeing my sister Rosa step out of the van and try to sleep on top of the trailer that was attached to the van carrying our entire luggage. From the window, I see her attempt to lie down to sleep on top of the luggage, but it was so windy and cold that she stepped off and got back in the van. But we were up and out before the sun came up and continued our drive to Zacatecas.

I do have to mention that during our entire trip to Zacatecas and Michoacan, my sister Vanessa and I were at a disadvantage. When we had to go pee, we were forced to hold it in until our next stop while our brother Edgar freely peed inside a soda can my dad would give him haha!! It was totally not fair. And by the time we reached both the first and second destination, the back of that camper smelled like feet and ass haha!! Three chubby kids in the back of that camper leaves little to no room for air circulation haha!!

The next day we arrived in Rio Grande, Zacatecas and we all stayed in my sister Rosa and her husband’s home that they owned there. I remember the streets weren’t streets, but were dirt roads and I would always see young kids jumping on the bumper of the passing cars hitching a ride to wherever they needed to go. I thought it was so dangerous and these kids would just easily jump on there like they were monkeys. My sister’s house wasn’t big, but wasn’t small either. My favorite part of it was the roof, which had an extra room. It had a ladder leading up to it and the extra room was built towards the back of the house and you could walk towards the front and see the whole neighborhood. I loved climbing up there. There were a lot of us staying in that house and I think I got this motto from growing up with it “If there’s floor space, then there’s somewhere to sleep.” The younger kids, including me, all slept in the bedroom that was towards the front of the house while others slept towards the back of the house and on the room on top of the roof. I remember I got so sick of eating eggs for breakfast. Every single morning, all we would eat for breakfast was eggs. Eggs. Egss. Eggs. Every morning haha!!

I was fairly tall for my age around that time and people would always call me Doña, which refers to an older lady in English. People would call me that from far away, but once I got close enough they’d see that I was just a child. I remember being in a store with my mom and I wondered off looking around. I was looking through a few things when I heard a woman from behind me say “Doña, te puedo ayudar con algo?” (Lady, can I help you with something?). I turn around to face her and she says “Oh, perdon mija.” (Oh, sorry.) and walks away. I guess my baby face shut her up.

Before the wedding took place, I remember my sister Rosa and her husband Chelino taking us to a bunch of places we’ve never been. We went to León, Guanajuato which I thought was a BEAUTIFUL city. I remember it being so busy and so popular and I remember sitting on the edge of a big fountain taking a picture with a bunch of us in it. I don’t remember whose camera that was haha!! But the one place I will never forget my sister took us was Plateros, Zacatecas. We saw an old beautiful church and its’ walls and pillars were covered with papers and artifacts from people describing the miracles they’ve witnessed or experienced that were the result of praying to the Holy Son of Atocha. You can read more about it in this blog I found describing the place Plateros, Zacatecas Mexico. It was very breathtaking. There were so many prayers and stories and appreciation and it felt so holy to be there. I know I was just a 10 year old kid seeing this, but I felt amazing being there. I remember feeling privileged to witness such a beautiful thing. It was a huge collection of decades and decades of complete trust and belief in one true faith. It was amazing and I really hope I could go back to visit one day and take photos of my own.

A couple of days later, it was time for my sister Carmen and her husband to be Joel’s wedding. I have to mention this next memory because it is forever embedded in my head since seeing it. The day before the wedding, we were at someone’s house and I remember walking through a doorway leading to what looked like an outside corridor of the house. Kind of like a courtyard. I remember seeing my sister Rosa’s husband Chelino squatting down looking up at me as I passed the doorway and saying “Mira Chena.” (Look Chena). On the floor was a huge pig that was still alive with its’ hooves tied together. I walked back out the doorway as if I knew what was going to happen without it being told to me and didn’t want to see it. I stood there outside the doorway where Chelino was and a second later, I heard the squeals of the pig as it was being cut open. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I peeked in to see if what was happening REALLY WAS happening and I saw blood everywhere. That poor pig served dinner to everyone the next day haha!! I remember the church being so big and so beautiful. It had two huge bell towers and because I was such a fidgety kid, I couldn’t sit still and my mom had to pinch me a couple of times to be quiet during the church ceremony haha!! The reception was even bigger. The hall was huge and full of loud music and lots of dancing was going on. There were so many people and I will never forget seeing Joel’s mom crying so much at the head table. After the wedding, Joel was going to be moving back to the U.S. with us and his mother was completely heartbroken over it. I remember seeing her cover her face with her hands sobbing so uncontrollably and her husband (Joel’s dad) with both his arms around her trying to console her. It was the sweetest and saddest thing I had ever seen. But nonetheless, the wedding was a hit and my sister and Joel are still married to this day and hold such a strong love for eachother that sometimes reminds me of horny teenagers haha!! Sorry Carmen!!

The next day, my parents, my brother Edgar, my sister Vanessa, and myself were off to Cotija, Michoacán to visit our aunts, uncles, and grandmother on my dad’s side. Another two day car drive and another blog post for another day. Mexico – Part 2 will be up next week. I will never forget Michoacán. And I can’t wait to tell you all about it. Thank you for reading.

Jessenia Lua



Oh!! And Happy Independence Day Mexico!!

A Starry Night With Margaret Whiting

*Blog was written Monday August 29th, 2011. It references "last night" to meaning Sunday night.

I spent most of the day yesterday organizing things in my room and preparing for another school/work week. Since I’ve returned to school, I’ve been really staying on top of keeping myself organized and not getting distracted with my health goals. I know that adding school to my work schedule will definitely interfere with my workout schedule since I usually do all my workouts after work at the beach. However, I’m determined to pull through this semester and fit into my jeans I’ve hung above my piano. I hung them above my piano so I can see them everyday and remind myself how much I loved my jeans when I used to fit into them. I need to lose about 25 more pounds to fit into them and I’m sure other jeans and shirts will add to my current wardrobe collection that I can wear instead of hiding them in the back of my closet haha!! The only thing that gets me nervous is that I won’t have time to do my usual workouts so with work and school schedule in hand, I’ve made a workout routine to fit into my busy weeks for the next four months. Let’s hope I can stick to it!!

After I finished organizing my room around yesterday, I couldn’t sleep all night and ended up staying wide awake around midnight. I had been watching a movie earlier in the evening and heard a beautiful song that just made me think of someone. I pulled out my trustee iphone and opened the Shazam Application. It’s supposed to recognize songs you’re currently listening to if you don’t know the name of it. Unfortunately, Shazam couldn’t identify it either. Probably because it is a really old song and not in its inventory. It reminded me of old classical music like that of in Casa Blanca (beautiful movie by the way – one of my favorites). I memorized a line from the song, googled it, and it turned out to be “Time After Time” by Margaret Whiting. I thought it was such a beautiful song. I purchased it on itunes and not being able to sleep, I go out for a midnight drive.

Normally when I cruise around Oceanside at night, I’m usually downtown riding along the 101 enjoying the bright lights of the busy street. Or, if I want it to be a little quieter, I drive south of the 101 and end up at Carlsbad Beach where I park my car, sit on the sand, and listen to the waves hit the shore and watch the stars at night.

I was headed north on the 101 driving along downtown Oceanside when I popped in the song I had just purchased. The slow melodic sound and that haunting voice of hers was pulling at my heartstring so hard (song is posted below). It made me think of someone. Someone I’ve written about here before. Someone who a month ago was asking for another chance. I guess I had every reason to be more cautious this time. I felt so connected to her voice in the song and feeling that at one point I thought I could say everything she was singing to this one person. All the hope I felt and everything I believed just disappeared without explanation. I wish I had the explanation. It isn’t fair to me. And I don’t understand how, just how it could happen again and how can he do that to someone. Especially after always believing him and trusting that this time it was real. I could never hurt someone like that. Never.

So as I slowly wiped my teary eyes, I put the song on repeat and tried to clear my head. I was so in love with this song that I couldn’t stop listening to it. I made a u-turn on the 101 and was headed south wanting to go to the beach. Listening to the song over and over again, the strangest thoughts entered my mind. I thought of myself serenading my nephew/god-son Diego with it. Maybe singing the song at my brother’s upcoming wedding, wishing them the eternal love this song represents. And then a memory entered my mind of my late brother Chava (Salvador).

I don’t know why the song made me think of him, but it did. It was a sweet memory. It was a memory from when my family and friends were celebrating my niece’s Quinceñera when I was 15 years old. I was two months away from turning 16 and I had already celebrated my own Quinceñera the year before. I served as a dama (maid) in her court and she had served as one in mine as well. I was happy with my Quinceñera. I know my mom did all she could to provide me with one. As well as my older sisters who pitched in and I was truly grateful. But I remember feeling a bit down during my niece’s party. There we all were in a big rented salon with a huge DJ, a limousine, and center pieces that were so much prettier than mine. I never told anyone this, but I felt like all my older sisters put more of an effort into my niece’s party than mine because she was skinny and pretty and I was chubby and weird looking. I know that wasn’t the case, but I couldn’t help feeling this way. I know my niece’s parents (my oldest sister and my brother-in-law) had the money to provide her with everything for her party and my mom did what she could with mine. I don’t blame anyone for my party because I honestly had a good time. Even if it was in my backyard haha!!

But still, I was feeling down, sitting at the head table where all the maids and escorts sit, I was watching everyone dancing having a good time. The salon had an empty room to the side with a half-wall partition where the food was served and since it was empty, because dinner was over, I went in there to be by myself. I had turned off the light, took a chair, and sat in the middle of the room. I remember thinking about my dad and how I didn’t get to have my “father and daughter dance” with him at my Quinceñera because he had passed away four years prior. Then I remembered what my sister Lupe once told me when I was walking down the aisle at the church ceremony. She said “Make a little room for Dad. He’ll be there.” Oh man that made me cry so much that day. But I never talked about it.

Sitting in that room I remember thinking “Why couldn’t I have had this party too?” I was leaning back on my chair, in my pink maid dress, with my arms folded across my chest when I began to fight the tears from coming down. I was trying really hard not to cry when my oldest brother Chava sees me through the half-wall partition from the dance floor, comes inside, turns on the light and asks “What are you doing in here?” I answer “Nothing. Just hanging out.” He could clearly see that I had been crying even though I denied it. Without hesitation, he grabs my arm and pulls me to the dance floor to dance with him. He was trying to cheer me up without admitting that he knew I was upset. I’ll never forget that moment. It changed my mood for the rest of the night.

I still think a lot about my late dad and brother. Sometimes, more than I want to. Sometimes, it overwhelms me. Sometimes, I feel guilty when I don’t think about them at all. It’s strange. I sometimes think about writing a book about it. A book about how the mourning process has been and still is. Sometimes I feel like it will never end. And I honestly feel so ridiculous to even write this and say it out loud because it’s been so many years now. It’s been so long. But maybe in all these years I’ve never really confronted the actuality of it. Who knows? I can’t say time will tell because time hasn’t told me anything this far in.

So I ended up at Carlsbad beach and parked my car. I walk onto the sand and sit myself down looking up into the sky. I know this sounds poetic, cheesy, maybe even dramatic, but it’s what I enjoy to do when I wan to clear my head. I have my iphone secure under my right shoulder bra strap listening to “Time After Time” while looking at the stars and listening to the waves. I’m curiously looking around when I see a huge shooting star fall from the sky. It took my breath away. It was so bright and I felt as if I was meant to see it. I felt as if it was meant for me. I didn’t make a wish on it, like I normally do whenever I see one, but instead I said “Hi” to my dad and brother. Maybe it was them dropping in to say hello. It made me smile from ear to ear. I didn’t stay much longer since it was well past midnight but it felt really nice to feel what seemed like a spiritual connection to those I’ve lost. It's always been said that people in their darkest hour always find hope. I never want to have a dark hour. Even when missing someone puts me there. I just want to have hope. Thank you for reading.