David's Tangled Thoughts

I remember stepping back in fear.  Nanay (my Grandmother) wailed as my dead mother was carried up and out of the house where she had been kept for some time before the funeral.  She was my mother but I felt little of what Nanay was belting out.  She would have her daughter stay in that house for one moment more if she could but it was time.  A crowd had formed outside the house and we slowly followed my mother’s coffin as it was transported to the Catholic Church.  I remember walking near my grandfather and, in one of the few fond memories I have of him, I could feel some commiseration with him as we both mourned.  He for his daughter.  Me for my mother.  I held in my emotions though. I only cried for my mother once-when my father came into my hospital room.  I was in the bed waiting to be transported to the hospital at Clark .  He came to my left side and told me she had died.  He removed his glasses, put his head down, and began to weep.  My mom was gone and my dad, who had been a

My friend Stacey and I dyed Easter eggs yesterday. I used to like doing it when I was a kid and I can't even remember when I did it last. Last year we spent Easter at my Aunt Julie's house and my three youngest cousins went looking for plastic eggs that had candy in it. I thought it would be nice to have real Easter eggs this year. I was wrong.  Here's what happened today: They were not very enthused about the idea of real eggs and despite the initial instinct to just leave the eggs where they were, all were eventually found. I can't say if they were actually consumed, however.