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Resting
Driving home, I saw a young mother sitting on a street bench outside as she waited for the bus, hugging her toddler boy’s small body as it rested on her chest. A memory from when I was a child came to me.
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Mom’s Note
“I learned to appreciate life a lot more!!! I learned to get rid of depression by breath[ing] slowly in and out several times daily to relax, to listen to music and dance to it, to laugh.”
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Nice Guy
“I need a ride. Take me home.” I did. Stupid. I shouldn’t have but being nice was always my constant curse and offering her a ride home was the most recent example of this fault in my then 19-year-old self. She wasn’t a stranger. She wasn’t an acquaintance or only a friend. Throughout high school,…
tilicheros
o.gomez
tilicheros
[tee∙lee∙CHEH∙rows]
n. (indigenous Mexican Nahuatl):
old clothing, rags, or trinkets;
collection of things with little or no use
s.e.l.a.
tilicheros 