Ketchup, My Second Love

Okay, Ketchup is my second love...I use it for everything except cereal, that's just weird. I’ve always loved ketchup... I can remember the first time I tried it...just kidding, I really don't. My mom says I have something wrong with me for loving ketchup so much....but I can’t help it!
Is it weird that when you see the new bottle, shimmering with the newly put on sticker you feel an excitement rush into you? It’s kind of embarrassing admitting this but what can I do?

My mom loves to tell this story about me (it’s about ketchup obviously). It’s one of those stories that your mom thinks it’s cute but you think it’s the most embarrassing thing ever and you just want to hide behind anything at that moment. Well, my mom say that right after a tornado hit are house and the red cross had come we had a chance to go and collect our things…and well, the only thing I asked for was (try to guess) it was my ketchup bottle not my bottle of milk, not candy bar, not even my teddy bear! I adore the person one how invented ketchup, it one of the best sauces ever (actually the best sauce ever made) so once again, ketchup is my second love.

It’s Another Friday

finally…
the days hold back
the stories waiting to be told
waiting and waiting until today.
I scroll down the list of friends.
I come upon the name of my cousin.
I click on the green bottom.
Every time I see the little loading sign
I wonder
how it’s possible
to talk from thousand and thousand miles away…
I see them on the screen, blurry
but enough to see there smiles.
We laugh, cry,
we talk about are struggles,
we make jokes,
talk about guys,
are adventures in school
and we count the months, the days to see each other.
But for now we are behind a camera…
Waiting for another Friday,
holding the stories waiting to be told
Waiting and waiting until
next time.

The Tell-Tale Heart from the Point of View of the Police

Its 3:30 a.m., a women pants and rushes within the station. She tells us that during the night she heard a shriek that came from the neighbor’s house and a small ray of light shot out of the window. We asked her if she could corroborate with more but she could not. We thanked her and asked her to lead us to the house... the two officers and I surmised many theories to what might have possibly caused that shriek. We said we would endeavor to search gingerly, not anything slip away.

We walked up to the front door of the house, the porch was clad with dust, I knocked… a man greets us with smiles. Why was he smiling? We tell him that a shriek had been heard by a neighbor during the night; suspicion of foul play had been alerted; information had been derived at the police office, and we had been ordered to search the house. We gingerly walked in to the dark and hunting place. He led us all over the house and told us to search well. He informed us that the old man was out of the country…I rose my eyebrows in disbelief. We did not search in a cursory manner because I was sure that there was something wrong.

We did not find anything out of place. We were about to succumb but just as we went into the old man’s room and the man offered us to sit, I could tell that his tone went from calm and content, to an abrasive one. A grimace crossed his face and became paler by the second, as well as dehydrated; I knew he was hiding something. He swung the chair, he talked louder and louder, his frantic expression was terrifying… I saw him tear the floor boards yelling “here, here!—it is the beating of his hideous heart!” I was electrified of this gruesome site, the old man laying stone dead, with his eyes opened one brown and the other pale blue… just like a vultures eye.

Like a Fish Out of the Water

“Breath, in and out!” my mother said right before everything went foggy.

The car door went shut and the engine began running. Before I new it, I realized I was headed to the emergency room…I was suffocating, I felt like a fish out of the water. I took short and forced breaths that tighten my chest (not that the effort really helped) my lounge’s airways were closing…I didn’t know what to do or think I thought I was going to pass out; I was in the hands of my parents and doctor Philips .

From that day on, I knew I was another of those people with asthma. I think suffering from it is very life changing (the fact that you can’t have pets and to make it worse finding that you are allergic to almost everything there is in existence! So that’s a definite no-no.) Anyways, I learned that asthma was not going to change my athletic life… (Thank god.) The doctor Philips told me that many famous athletes have asthma and that I should not worry because I’m not the only one out there that has it.

Now that almost 7 years have passed I have overcome my condition and I realized nothing can stop you from doing anything… Doctor Philips and my parents were always by my side. What moved me was how a doctor like Doctor Philips always thought about the patient first and the business and the money later. When I grow up I want to do the same and help children that suffer from asthma and allergies because I know how much you have to go throw with this health condition. Not only I want to treat them but I want them to feel supported, just the way my doctor did for me.

Memoir Monday: Answer or Decline?

“Ring ring ring!” the Skype pop-up icon appears on the computer screen. My grandparents. Should I press the green square that says answer or the red one that says decline? I can’t believe that I’m actually thinking of this right now…what if it was an emergency or just another of those calls where they just want to ask how school was or something like that. I feel bad thinking this but they literally, call twice each day! I don’t blame them for doing that because I know how much they love us and miss us; I can’t ask for anything better but sometimes I wish I could just hit the red button that says decline.

It’s not that I don’t love them or anything it’s just that everyone has their schedule like mine is go to school, go to triathlon practice, shower, eat dinner, do homework, get distracted by Facebook a bit, and go to sleep, by the end of the day you are completely exhausted and don’t have anything left in you to talk with your grandparents.

Once again the pop-up icon appears on the computer screen… answer or decline I say. For a moment I can picture my grandparents sitting there waiting eagerly to talk to us. It might be because the days and hours are shorter for them because there life is ending and the only thing that fills in that time is the love and affection we give them. They want to make their life longer throughout the activities, achievements, the suffering, the happiness, the sadness and most importantly complete there rest of their life with love and joy.

I realized that when time passes the only thing that is left is the people you love and care for. As a granddaughter the only thing that is left is for me to do is to leave the best memory possible with the only thing they ask for…love.

What Others Feel and No One Sees

A thoughtful person
Does not strive to overpower
Or control other people.
He values
Other
And considers.
He looks
For opportunities to help.
He thinks about others
Well being
Happiness
As well
As his own.

Last summer,
Was one that I will remember always.
It was filled
With wonderful moments, but
Sad ones too.

One day.
When I was out
In the streets of Bolivia
I saw a mother
And her seven little children
Walking with an expression
You could never name.
With a heavy bag on her back
Like if she was caring all her worries, struggles and fears.

Instantly,
I had a need
Of giving her
All I owned,
But I realized
I couldn’t.

A tight stomach
And the erge
Was running throw my body.

Could I do what everyone else does?
Give her some coins
And walk of like you made some big change?
No,
I couldn’t
I couldn’t do that
To someone who’s been holding
A big sign right in front of you
Saying:
“Help me please!”

I had
To do something
Something those kids and
Mother
Would remember
And say
Gee,
That was a thoughtful person

I couldn’t give them
A house,
Or a car,
Or one hundred bucks
Things that are material
But when I grow up
Could give
All me strength
And energy
To fight
For their health
Education
And make a farer world for them.
Although
Those things
Are hard to achieve
You don’t lose anything
If you try...

A thoughtful person
Does not strive to overpower
Or control other people.
He values
Other
And considers.
He looks
For opportunities to help.
He thinks about others
Well being
Happiness
As well
As his own.

What I Hope Will Happen This Year

When someone leaves his

or her country very young

One tends to forget many things

You forget the smells,

The color of the sky,

You forget the feeling of the cold,

You forget the faces,

smiles, and the laughter

Of the people you love…

You forget the happy moments in the past,

You forget the small details

Because

Over the years

The fragile mind

Beings to fade those moments...

It’s important to go back

And regain all those lost years.

This year I will become more alert to contact people far away.

One hug was not enough that day…

Last year we had lost the semi-final soccer game.

Tears of anger and sadness poured out of my eyes.

I saw the other team cheer

And wear a smile

That went from one side of the face to the other.

This year, I know we will win.

Tuneless, string less, it lies there is the dust,

Like some great thought on a forgotten page,

It sits there, the violin

In the dark

Waiting for someone

to wake its beautiful harmony.

This year I will be the one that wakes the beautiful instrument.

I stretch my arm forward and push back

The constant kick like a motor.

I’m swimming through a storms of doubts

Through my fears

Through my failures

Through my past and present

Swimming through joys and sadness

trying to go toward the shore

almost getting drowned by emotions

I’m swimming through my life

A place

where you will be confused,

confident

and content.

This year I will become stronger to get through the storm of emotions.

I see my sister’s fingers fly across the black and white keys

The melody growing as the days pass and turn in to years

I see her maturity become greater

At a speed I can not remember

I see she has flourished

But I just want the song to calm near the end

Because I’m afraid she will not ask for my help one day…

This year I will appreciate my sister a lot more.

This year I will become more alert to contact people far away.

This year, I know we will win.

This year I will be the one that wakes the beautiful instrument.

This year I will become stronger to get through the storm of emotions.

This year I will appreciate my sister a lot more.