My Little Townhouse

I moved in here about two months ago. Slowly, but surely, it has become home. Though I miss the support at my mom's house, I now see the advantages of being here. It's my place. My corner of the universe. I am queen here and what I say goes. I cook and clean, fold the clothes and maintain the fort while my husband brings in the cash. I'm happy here but I want more. I want my own HOUSE. One that I own with a big yard and room for a kennel for my dog. Right now, the backyard is being protected by my turtle, bane of her food pellets.
This part of Hialeah is interesting. There are little rinky dink houses and virtual mansions side by side. It reminds me of Colombia where houses get built on depending on the wealth of the owner. Same here. I think overtime the houses will become too expensive for the most humble of us here. You can't find anything for less than a hundred thousand anymore. You would have to go into the inner city or down south where the mosquitoes will eat you alive. It's not easy, no es facil.
God willing, by my son's first birthday we'll own something. A good something. Until then, I'm in my little townhouse...

Last Day of Summer

I've lost a lot of weight since the baby. I've gotten a lot of positive comments about my weight loss. It makes me feel good , but I'm still not satisfied. I saw a picture of me from when AI was partying hardcore. I look good and my features stand out more. I want to look like that again but healthy! My friend Nikki in PA looks good. She only does Pilates and holds down another full time job for a living. Her birthday's coming up. I sent her a card. I usually send her a little something on the side, but I couldn't afford it this time. I miss her. We used to party together in the old days. Over ten years ago now. That's a mini lifetime for us humans. I'm living my fourth decade of life and all I have are stories. It's up to me to tell them to make something of those years.

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

1. The Road Not Taken


TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;
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Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,
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And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.
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I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

I love this poem because I believe to state my decision to not take the path well known in my life. I chose to party and live with people living an alternative lifestyle on the beach. I'm writing about it in my other blog, The Adventures of Acidia. Read it.