not like some people

some people explode into my life like fireworks and light up the sky for an instant.

not this woman.

she is a steady light that only grows brighter the longer i know her.

some people are in my life to teach me a single truth.

not this woman.

she teaches me something new every time we connect.

some people impress me with a certain skill.

not this woman.

she impresses me with her open, laughing soul.

i guess you could say she's a hero of mine.

and today is her birthday.

and i can't imagine walking through this life without her.

the body needs time

i've been back here in my other home for almost two weeks....maybe more, i've lost track of what time means.

i've had a head-ache for almost two weeks...maybe more.....

there is the staticky-roar of life here. it is never quiet.

it's difficult to readjust to being on my own, to not be soaking in the love that haiti gives me in abundance. here, i experience solitude in the crowd.

a certain boy keeps me laughing, gives me hugs on demand, and listens to me rant. i realize how precious his friendship is to me. it is a link to life here. i am creating others. i went to a roller derby bout and scanning the crowd, i saw so many faces that were familiar, friendly. comforting....but, i can't stop myself from comparison. they are not THE faces...the ones that i know as well as my own. often, angry, resentful i feel myself rejecting this life of familiar but not family.

everything has its price. running from one kind of insecurity to another, more acceptable one, has its price.

i don't know where this post is taking me in its rambling. i am not not happy....my body just needs time.

it is confused, i guess.

being in haiti was such perfection, but i know we were all taking a break from 'life' to be together and make it perfect. if there is a heaven, i know that that is what it will be. wandering conversations, beaches, and unhurried time.....heaven is friendship with no schedule.

relationships are the nanan of my life...the truly essential things of value. but, here, my day planner presses my relationships into little slots. so, to me, america is where i accomplish goals and haiti is where my treasure resides. i breathe deeply and keep moving forward.

sweet sorrow

After a meal together, my father would lean back in his chair put his hands on his head and ask, "Do you think even the president of the United States ate as well as we did tonight?" And the contents of the meal were never an issue. It could have been lobster or cornmeal. The point was appreciation of the moment.

Right now, I sit here in my childhood home and ask, "Is there anyone in the world more fortunate than I?"

This week has been among the best of my life. And, yes, the timing of it is special and decadent, but the activities that filled my days are the same ones that always did. It is about me being fully present. It is the appreciation of this string of moments.

I look at the faces of my friends, old and older (I had someone track me down after nine years last week, not knowing that I'd be in country this weeks...synchroncity?) and I know that I am blessed. They have spoiled me so much. Usually I would feel a little guilty, a little undeserving....but being fully present, I gently absorb it all. Surrounded in love, I am.

We walked up the hill to Boutilliers. There was so much fog that I couldn't see the central plateau. But, I didn't need to. I know exactly what it looks like. I know it better than the back of my hand.

The beach....oh the beach! Water so clear we saw translucent fish...water so clear, we saw the shadows of these translucent fish six feet below us. We were the only four on that beach...until a naked fisherman popped up out of the waves near the caves. And off he went and we were alone again, laughing.

Sunday a party for b. Chatter and children, and so much meat. I think I've singlehandedly eaten a whole pig. (More on this carnivorous shame later.)

And, watching a movie like I always did at l.'s. But now, there is my niece with her giggles, her spontaneity...and yes, she calls me "tatie" and my heart flips a little at the explosion of love.

Today, I gave blood at the hospital where I was born. I always leave a part of myself here when I go...but, it has always been symbolic. There is a bulging liter bag of my blood here. It will be given to someone who lives here, who is also connected to this place by their blood and I will always be here.

Ice cream at Fior di Latte...like always. Confessions and confidences that always bubble forth.

Now, I am in this house that was the only house I ever knew until a couple years ago. I wait for the girls and off we will go to Pizza Garden. Yes, they serve pizza...in a garden. Long ago, it was far across town and they had an actual brick oven. As a little girl, I knew that in that oven, Hansel and Gretel had cooked the witch. You can only love a pizza from Pizza Garden if you've eaten them since you were a little girl or boy. The crust is pastry and the cheese is white kraft american. It is mother's milk, people!

And then, suitcases to pack. I had to borrow an extra from my mom. That is how much I've been lavished upon. My insides flutter and dance knowing that my little house in Savannah will have more pieces of home everywhere that I will look.

I already feel the tears rising like a tide in my stomach, in my gut...knowing that tomorrow they will crash forth as I say.....I can't even type it out.....as I say the words that people say when they part. Even as I look forward to seeing the little boy, running with Kenai, hugging a certain boy, and sharing a cup of coffee with the sister, I know the weight of sadness.

Heavy, but familiar.

lizard brain

i can't squeeze everything onto this page. i feel so full....literally and figuratively.

yesterday, early start with a salsa/hip hop class with the girls. then, back to c.'s to lay in the pool, lay in the sun. then, off to lunch with b. haitian buffet....gratinee! fried fish, rice and beans, banann peze, and so many other things that i couldn't fit on my plate (even though i went back three times). i could have eaten a kivet full of gratinee. and an ice cold cola couronne.

i feel like a fat, sleek lizard. so content and unquestioning of the whole meaning of life. it is to eat good food and to lie in the sun near a body of water with the breeze flowing through the flowered vines perfuming the air. i don't have to think. i am.

today, the artisan shops to mine for treasures for my other home. there is beauty everywhere. haiti is saturated with color...it is a thickly textured oil painting shellacked and set to sparkle in the brightest sun.

the air glides over me. it is a consistency of silkiest water, over my bare arms. i drink it in and i feel the warmth of the sun in my lungs.

and i wonder if i see things clearly or if i just swim in love here. my friends, who are the different chambers of my heart, spoil me with acceptance and laughter here. and time. there is nowhere to run to. i am here and there are stories to be told. i am here and there are moments to share. i am here and there are a magazine of memories to make for those days when we will be apart.

ceasing to question why i deserve these strong, amazing women in my life, i sit in their presence and absorb as much of this goodness as i can into my bones. they are the faces of haiti to me....the resilient, ebullient, open as the sky faces that shelter me no matter what tempest, that bolster me no matter what weakness, that love me no matter what faults....b., c., and l. you are my greatest allies, my dearest friends. and you have taught me what love really is.

while sitting at a dear woman's clothing shop (i can't really call it that....it's like walking into a dream dress-up chest or an bohemian artist's jewelry box), i left the moment, lost my fat, sleek lizard self and realized that their are not many days left here...and my throat closed up a little.

so now, i am sitting here in l.'s bedroom that i helped her move into while she bathes sweet a. her wise father sent word with her today. "tell tinu to have a great time here and to enjoy one of her two countries."

and with those words, he set a little part of me free. i have always struggled to define myself...to put forth my identity as american or as haitian. and i've always seen it as a bit of a curse, all this confusion, these blurry lines. but it is a blessing. i am both....certainly not in equal portions. i am not a yin-yang sign. i am more like an elaborate tapestry....i am bright turquoise cloth with precious golden threads running through to make a pattern.

because i am almost complete here...95%. but, i miss my red bike. i miss the little boy. i miss a certain boy. i miss my store family.

so that is part of being in this world. there will always be someone somewhere that i love who is not with me. but, the flip side of that is that no matter where i am, there will be someone there whom i love and who loves me.

surprises and other good things

this morning i awoke before seven, as i always do. there was a slight breeze kissing my cheek through the open window as there always is. i opened my eyes to see trees as i always do. i pulled on some workout clothes as i always do. kenai had come to wake me as he always does...but this was in a vivid dream i had. kenai and the little boy are several hundred miles away. or maybe i am.

i am in haiti.

yes.

i am.

and in my vivid dream last night, the little boy, kenai, a certain boy, and a red bike were all here with me. kenai had come up from the pool, all wet and free to wake me. that is how i brought it all together. although, i don't really think i had to.

waking up in haiti was natural. my transition from being in savannah early yesterday morning to being here was seamless. of course, three flights all doped up on dramamine makes the whole day seem like a dreamwalk.

thank you p.m. for the ride to the airport at 4:45 a.m....i will only give you half the dirty looks i usually do. thank you planes and pilots who existed only for me yesterday. and thank you, thank you, thank you the makers of dramamine.

the whole trip was smooth as syrup. until, of course, miami and the gate to the port-au-prince flight. delayed, of course. lots of talking and laughing and reuniting with people one hasn't seen in a while. and, of course, once i was near enough to the gate to hear the chatter (which was further than you might think) i had to text my sister one word, "kreyol!". and, though i wasn't here yet...i already was.

when we landed, i looked out the window, although i didn't have to. i know this place as well as i know my own face. a lump lodged in my throat and i prepared myself to be reunited with a place that has lived inside me for the past year. a year can't have already passed....

the walk from the plane to the terminal took me more time than it usually does. i wanted to go carefully, to reintroduce myself to this land tenderly. the band was playing at the entrance with their banjos and other makeshift instruments...of course their hand-made drums, carved from coconut trees and tautly stretched goatskins, their brightly painted cha-chas made from callebasse gourdes, and a couple objects that only they can coax music from. seeing them made me miss a certain boy...he would have loved to stop for a minute and contribute his own beat.


i waltzed through customs. outside there was a man waiting with a sign printed with my "code name". you see, one of the main reasons that i am here is because it is b.'s birthday. and for my birthday, which was only a few days ago, i had requested a trip home. i decided that she didn't really need to know that i was coming because surprises are such great presents. so, c., l. and i have been planning. it has been like being in a spy movie. as you will see: so, the man was waiting with my code name. we made eye contact. i nodded. he repeated my code name. i nodded again, then asked. "who sent you?" after the appropriate response, i nodded a third time. he called c. who came tearing out of the parking lot and we piled into the car. me, in the back, wearing a hat, lying on the floor...just in case. because, in haiti, it isn't only the person you are trying to surprise that you have to be careful with. everyone knows everyone. and it would be too imprudent to allow anyone to see me, have me be recognized and one simple, "hey, so jen's here?" phone call later and three months of planning, kaput.

of course, the boys were the worst. they kept calling every ten minutes to play spy. "has the package arrived?" "is the package at its final destination?" and, my favorite, "is the package's child with her?" yeah, no job offers from the cia will be coming up soon.

c.'s new home matches her. in fact, it was difficult to remember the old house, so well this one suits her personality. there is art everywhere and plants and other signs of a nurturing person. red lillies sat in bowls on white tables in the yard near the pool. candles were set all along the perimeter of the lawn, growing like random flowers. i only had to go dress and wait.

b. was led up the steps for "her gift". the door flew open and within a second she was screaming and crying and screaming and crying and hugging me and screaming and crying some more. she held on to me for minutes and we just cried. then, i got to hug everyone else.

we went down to the tables and the candles. we abandoned the seating arrangements, dragging all of our chairs into a circle. and we picked right up where we left off. a year can't have gone by.....

and the food. and the music. and the laughter......

and i am so full. in so many ways.

so this morning, dance class with the girls. the drumbeats that are tattooed into my soul...when i heard them, i forgot for a second that they weren't coming from my own imagination. the trance-like moments when my body moves to the rythmns that my ancestors did and that my great-great-grandchildren will, fed me.

then, to the house i have known since the day i was brought home from the hospital as a cubby cherub. sis and marianj doing a little dance. sis holding me so tight. now, she doesn't even come to my shoulders. so she just kissed my heart over and over and couldn't let go. tears running out from behind her glasses.

i am typing as quickly as i can. but, i can't keep up with my thoughts. nor, can i even capture in words what i am feeling. a rooster keeps announcing his presence. someone is banging nails into something. a delicate web of mosquitoes bobs over my fingers. my belly is full of pumpkin soup...with extra "acid" (vinegar) just the way that i like it. i am waiting for the girls to finish their day jobs so that we can go get manicures and gossip, as we always do.

and i am here. i am really, really here. my alter-life seems like a distant dream...but i know that it is as real as this one is. i slept in a certain pale blue t-shirt that sports the name of a certain band that a certain boy sings for. i have the coastal empire section of the savannah newspaper with me. my purple uggs are sitting in my bedroom.

but for now, i am here.

deeply, truly

between my sternum and my navel, there is a space... a bubble of sorts with a hard shell. in it, i carry the hurts of my past.

sloshing around in there are all the lost loves, the deep wounds of childhood, the decay of a man closer to me than any other, the rust of time on all things treasured....the night time screams of all the moun fou (crazy people) that would wander the streets under my bedroom window. and haiti is in there, too. all the terrors that i've seen there, the horrors that i've witnessed, the rage of injustice, the slimy fingers of corruption fester in that hard-shelled bubble along with everything else. i catalogue these things separately. they are kept out of my mind, off the surface of my thoughts. i open the lid on the bubble and drop them in.

lately, the bubble has grown heavy. straining at its walls is all the unexpressed pain, all the suppressed anger, all the cruelty that i am capable of. i fear that the shell will crack. i fear that the bubble will burst.

i am a nice person. i am the girl that makes people laugh. i am the one that you can be cruel to and i do not react because i know that you are cruel because you are fragile and wounded.

but the walls are stretched thin.

i walked through the park yesterday. i saw an older couple sitting on the bench near the fountain. they each were reading something, she an art book on clay figures, he a novel, but, i couldn't see the cover. i laid my blanket down in the sun (SUN!) and watched a group of young people playing at capoeira. i napped in the breeze. i woke and there were dogs everywhere, running. people laughing with each other. the moss floated over my head. i saw p. kicking a football (soccer) around. the little boy arrived with l. he ran toward me, his wild hair flying with him-a furry bird, alive. the grass stretched out from me in every direction. c. and r. came to meet us. the frisbee was taken out. bare feet sank into the spongy earth. s. and her new beau joined in. later, we walked down broughton street to vinnie's. perfectly crisp and chewy slices of pizza were consumed. then home, where kenai's wet nose and tongue tickled my toes. joy.

but the bubble. the past. when does one set their past down in peace to move forward to the future?

i feel that i keep the bubble as my badge. do you see how hard my life has been? do you understand how many horrible things i've lived through? i keep it as insurance before god that i've suffered through my quota of pain. but it chains me. i am tired of lugging it around. hearing the slish-slosh of all my righteous indignation every time i move. but, am i brave enough to let it all go? do i have the courage to look around in this new place and be fully here? can i be satisfied by the paler beauty of green grass and moss in oak trees? is there something in me that needs the intensity of insecurity to keep me sharp? i am afraid of the present moment.

i think that that is simply it. i am afraid of just being. of just being here where i don't understand things. of just being here where i am the decider of my day's direction. here, in the calm of structured routine, all my needs of food, water, security....affection if i ask for it...are met. now, it is time for me to move on to fulfilling my purpose in this life. and, although i know what it is, i really do....i fear the responsibility of reaching my potential.

i know this post rambles. it is not concise, nor is it completely clear. but, this journey to a new town has evolved into a journey into my deepest self. and the deeper that i mine, there is greater mystery. the darkness must be mined and understood before the light floods it all away.

and the bubble needs to be digested. i need to integrate myself into one cohesive being so that that space between my sternum and my navel can be put to other use...like to hold my organs, to serve as a place for my love to rest his head, to be flesh...to be fragile with no fear.

capitalism

ran in to loose lucy's with l. today to pick up some nag champa.

for those of you who don't know, loose lucy's is a one stop "hippie" shop. they have everything from posters of albert einstein with pacifist quotes to $60 silk patchwork skirts to, of course, incense.

only in america can you take a whole movement that stood for anti-establishment, for living off of love and ice water, for negating the importance of the mighty dollar, dilute it into just a well designed concept and make a million bucks off of people thinking that they get it by buying a look. that was a major run on sentence. (sorry, mrs. froelich)

i look at this new generation of hippies. i call them fake hippies. mostly, they are middle class kids who haven't suffered enough so they create this look as an excuse to not shower or hold down a job.

but, i digress.

capitalism works because advertising has everyone truly, truly convinced that money will buy them happiness....or in this case hippiness.