sometimes silence is the best answer of all...

It all started with a good day and a red skirt.

My friend and I had gone to Miami at the beginning of august for a weekend away. We were “grown women” now, reveling in the pseudo-freedom of New York’s single life and what little grace our jobs and her slavery to law school were allowing us.
Friday night, August 4th, we set ourselves free into the video-like arms of Miami, warmth, beaches, and a very talkative cab driver from Iran. His voice and stories taught us laughter and love in moments where that’s all we thought we’d ever need.

But this story is not about Miami. Though perhaps the next will be. This story is about the thing I battle with most in this here life-o-mine. Love. And how sometimes I’m a bit more casual with the people I give it to and how. And how I get myself in these lofty storybook/television-like situations to begin with.

And the most recent ending started with a red skirt.
I had woken up colorful that morning. My room, in all of its languor and disarray still contains/holds a window that lets in every bit if Godliness it can muster between two 6-floor pre-war buildings in Manhattan’s beloved (and very Dominican) Washington Heights. By the time my alarm goes off, the sun is stretching her arms. By the time I have pressed my last (of 5) snooze release, she smiles wide and bright, sometimes even giving me a welcome laugh. Who needs artificial light with such a beautiful reality?

This morning—it was a Tuesday—even though the air outside didn’t appear to match the sun’s glorious mood, I felt like laughing too…and looking good. I popped out of bed with the perfect atmosphere-picker-upper: the red skirt I had gotten on bargain in Miami. It was marked for $40, the storeowner who easily identified my friend and I as New Yorkers because of our “style” wanted $30, and I told him I wanted it for $25—and got it. If anybody ever wonders how to make me happy, it’s simple: give me what I want.

(to be continued...)