Month: June 2016

Your Purpose

Life is a battle ground of emotions; of dreams; of passions.
Life can lash out; leaving your skin bare and raw. A race that goes on an individual pace. It is punching  your fist through the ground and extending your palm to the sky. Life is carrying a sword on your right and a healing staff in the other. Life is singing a versus of happiness and a chorus of sorrow. No one had ever said it would be easy, but it is said to be worthwhile. Most people are not given choices, but it is not for you to stare and judge, but to blink and learn; to take that experience and etch it into your soul. Life is meant to be dissected  and reflected upon. To lead to an open mind; a mind that is limitless and not built with bricks of hate and cruelty.  It is rediscovering yourself even after being born and raised. Life is hard, made with different problems and a million of solutions. Each journey an unfolding story of beauty and wonder; rewards that no other human can give you. What life really asks of you is to never give up. No matter how ugly it may seem, there’s always a way to the light. Light you will find in others, but most importantly light you find within yourself.


To The Messengers…

It gets darker and darker, with each passing day. It would seem that the light will never break through. Those who are sensitive to their environments, and to the feelings of others, these are the worst times we could be in. There is so much destruction, so much hate, and the feelings of incompetence are greater than ever. Those who have been chosen to be messengers of light; you feel it the most. How can we help those who truly need it?
All the ugliness in the world, we messengers often question if our light makes a difference. Will it ever make a difference? The answer is: this is the test of true strength. It is only when darkness has fallen over us, that we realize just how bright our light is. The time is coming where we will be needed, we cannot afford to lose faith in humanity, and we cannot afford to lose faith in ourselves. We must focus on preparing ourselves to help those who need it when the time comes. We will all have our moment to act. Nothing is ever too far away; sooner or later, it will hit home. Either by a neighbor, by a loved one, or by a complete stranger. It is only a matter of time when all this ugliness reaches our doorstep, and we must be prepared to fight. To fight with the weapon of love, the weapon of light, and the weapon of tolerance. Most of us are prepared to fight, some are to scare to fight, but one day we will have to choose. Let those who want to ignore it– ignore it. Let those deny– deny it. For you can’t help those who don’t want to be helped. Nothing is worse than those who do not want to see. We must accept that this is the world that we live in, and that complaining doesn’t change a thing. The only thing that we can rely on is making a difference within ourselves and those who are willing to change . Nothing changes when all we do is point fingers at one another. We are too busy, just too determined to view this world as; you versus me, instead of, us versus the problem. To all the messengers out there: I feel your pain, I understand your anguish, but know that you’re not alone and that the time is coming.

The Veteran (part 2)

“Why don’t you write about him?” I looked at him puzzled.“You did pay attention at the meeting, didn’t you?” I smiled. “I take that as a no.” He said, as he sighed. “Long story short, the magazine is asking this little section here to find a topic and do a story on it. Upon submission and reviewing they will select the best story and publish it on the front page of the magazine.” I looked at him in disbelief.
“There is no way I missed that!” He looked even more confused.
“Oh yes you did.” He got up quickly, “Well I gotta go finish up. Meet you after?” I just nodded. I was thinking more about interviewing the man that has been sitting out front of this magazine company for the past year, and how I was going to get him to speak to me.
Five o’clock came quickly as I collected my things and headed towards the elevator. My mind felt exhausted.

The elevator doors opened, and I made my way down to the lobby and met up with Dave. He was talking, as he always did, but my attention was on the mysterious homeless man; who I saw through the glass.
“I think I’m going to take the bus home.” I said not taking my eyes off the veteran.
“Sure. Just be careful. Call me, text me, anything.” He said, and kissed me on my cheek. We both exited the building, but he got into his car. I, on the other hand, stood there awhile wondering how to approach him.

“Hey lady!” I heard someone shout. I turned to see the veteran waving the scarf I had embarrassingly gave him, “You forgot your scarf!” He yelled to me. I walked up to him; my eyes following the scarf.
“Actually it’s yours. I wanted you to have it; it’s freezing.” He retracted his hand, holding the scarf in his fist. “I was wondering, if you wanted something to eat.” I asked cautiously. He did not say a word, but rose to his feet. We walked to the nearest diner “New York Bar & Grill”, which was hidden in plain sight. The rectangular windows gave a slight reflection of the adjacent market. There were hardly any people inside. Only a few people looked up when the bell rang upon our entrance. The diner’s waitress, a blonde highlighted girl, who seemed to be in her early twenties, hesitated before asking, “Party of two?” I can tell she was curious as to who the veteran was, but by the look of her big oval brown eyes, I could tell she recognized the veteran from the corner of the building of Boroughs Daily Magazine. The diner reminded me of the 1950’s, with its red tables and chairs, black and white flooring, and shiny steel banners. The man behind the counter attended to people sitting on the stools, serving them coffee. The fry cook behind him yelling out orders that were ready to be taken. The diner smelled of eggs, bacon, and syrup. We followed the young lady and pointed to the booth near the window. He sat across from me as the waitress handed us the menu. As she placed down two glasses of water, he scanned the list of food. I, on the other hand, was thinking of questions to ask him. We stood silent as she came with fresh brewed coffee. He did not speak. He even ordered in silence; pointing to the oversize menu. I wondered if I should let him eat first, or talk while we ate. I wondered if maybe if the right thing to do was to let him open up on his own. An hour passed, which was spent eating and drinking in silence. My mind was louder and more active than this interview. The only noise made was from the fork and knife cutting through the scrambled eggs and French toast. It was six o’clock in the afternoon, the perfect time for breakfast I thought. I’ve always preferred breakfast at diners. Not sure where this “interview” was going, but I wrote it down: Breakfast during Dinner. He looked up slightly as I quickly scribbled it down. I tried to think of questions to ask him.
He took the last bite of his French toast and got up from the table. I stared at him speechless as he quickly turned to leave. I slammed the pen down onto the table

“Wai—“I said, almost desperately. The veteran turned to me and said.
“I’m sergeant Weeks.”

I stood surprised and didn’t react until he walked out of the diner into the cold evening. I got up as soon as my thoughts settled, and threw the money down onto the table. I swung open the door and walked out onto the street. I crossed and turned the corner, walking towards Boroughs Daily and looked for the veteran, but he wasn’t there. I stood in amazement on how quickly he vanished.

I walked to the bus and could feel the air get colder with every step I made. I wondered where he’d went and if he’ll be warm tonight. Within an hour the temperature dropped well below the twenties. I got off the bus and crossed the street walking to my apartment building. The building seemed luxurious as I stared at the lighted walkway that led to the entrance door. I felt grateful for having a warm place to bathe and sleep. I thought to myself of how many homeless people were in the city alone. Where do they all stay on nights like this? I walked into the lobby with the cream tiled floor and entered the elevator. I was startled by the sudden ringing and vibration of my phone.

The Veteran (Part 1)

The alarm rang once more after pressing the snooze button five times. I felt so warm under my handmade quilt my mom had made me. I found myself dozing off again until I remembered the big meeting I had in two hours. My heart skipped with that sudden fear of being late as I jumped off my bed. I raced back and forth, covering all corners of my room putting my outfit together; the weather music playing in the background. I could tell it was freezing outside since I could still feel the cold seep through my carpet. My cellphone rang (Dave) now I knew for sure I was running late. Dave always picked me up for work; entertaining me with his knowledge. It seemed he knew a little bit about everything. (One missed call). I slid the screen to redial, but he beat me too it. My phone rang and vibrated in my hand. (Dave) His mellow voice came through.
“Running late, yet again.” He said with a slight chuckle. All I could muster was a sigh. “Well lucky for you I bought you coffee. Your favorite, salted caramel … large.”
“Oh Dave! What would I do without you?” I heard him laugh as I shoved my keys in my purse; adjusting my coat and scarf.
“Wither and die Katherine, wither and die.”
I was thankful that Dave drove, especially today, the temperature only reaching twenty-eight degrees. He made it onto the expressway, my vision being blurred by the fogginess caused by the cars heater. Even as a little girl, I would trace my name or the names of my current boyfriends on the window. I drew a dog pooping, “Kat… aren’t we a little too old for that?”
I placed my hand on my chest and laughed, “Dave, I’m shocked! One is never too old for comedy.” He laughed while turning the heat up in the car. “It’s freezing today!” I said embracing my chest.
“Yea…Hey do you think that veteran will still be out front?” Dave spoke with worry in his voice. I looked out onto traffic.
“I sure hope not. Today is freezing and it’s going to get worse by night.” We call him the veteran, because for the pass year that man has been at the corner of our company, dressed in a camouflage coat, green pants, and combat boots. He also carried a green cap and a green military bag, but for me the most noticeable feature he had were his eyes. He carried the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. His brown eyes seemed like a river of hurt and unexplainable pain. The wrinkles and darkness around his eyes, spoke of many sleepless nights, the lines like a map of experience. Although he was homeless, he seemed well put together. My guess is the habit of being in the military, always having to look presentable. For the many times I’ve seen him, he’s never asked for money. He didn’t even own a coffee cup and let his situation speak for itself. He only sat there. Sometimes he’ll look up when someone passing by throws change into his lap. There’s been occasions that I’ve seen him mumble, but I’ve never been daring enough to approach him and listen.
As Dave was pulling up to the Boroughs Daily where we worked, I saw that he was there–just sitting. “He’s there!” I turned to Dave, “I can’t believe it; he’s going to freeze to death!” I wondered how anyone who served our country could be condemned to homelessness. I stared at him through the passenger side window. I felt so warm in the car, so warm that for a split second I forgot it was still winter outside. I was startled by the gust of wind that entered the car as Dave opened the door. I opened the car door and removed my cobalt blue scarf. The wind was blowing hard, my hair whipping my face; scarf in hand waving like a saluting flag.
“Put your scarf back on!” the wind so loud he yelled. I shook my head trying to remove my hair from my face.
“I’ll meet you inside!”
Dave walked past me and entered the glass windowed building. I watched him show his ID to the security guards Mike and Darrell. They smiled and nodded, gesturing him to walk on through. I slowly walked to the veteran and thought of ways of giving him my scarf, but all required close contact. Even though he didn’t look dangerous, you never know, besides this is New York. Unfortunately, there are a lot of homeless people who need medication and would probably do well in life if they had treatment. With so many thoughts in my head, I didn’t realize I was standing in front of him. I looked down and saw he was staring at me either suspiciously or out of curiosity as to why I was standing so close to him. “I’m sorry!” repeating my apology as I knelt down. The quickest thing I could think of out of pure embarrassment was to hang my scarf around his neck like a wall hook and bolt to my meeting.
I felt my face flushed with heat on how stupid I felt. I removed my coat almost desperately. I entered the elevator and pressed the seventh floor; it was empty and the silence vibrated against my ear drums. I thought about the homeless veteran and realized a scarf would not have done him justice. I stared at the coat that hanged over my arm. I could see the pattern of threading made with detail. How lucky I felt to be indoors.
I spent the whole day thinking about the veteran. I hardly paid any attention in the meeting. I typed away at my cubicle when Dave came by and perched on the divider like an eagle.
“Whatcha thinking about?” With a slight smirk on his face; I looked up at him.
“About the veteran.” I couldn’t quite understand what my sudden fascination about the poor man was. “I just wonder a lot of things about him. You know, like if he has family. Was he in the military? What’s his name…?” Dave just stared at me, bewildered by my obsession with the man from the corner.