susana

i don't understand. i often don't. why does it have to be a certain way? and why is that way so often so petty? i search for understanding and i feel alone. no one wants to feel alone. no one, or at least no one with creative ambitions or drives, wants to be dismissed either. we yearn to be significant. i know i do.
and so, presence. what does this mean? do we stop being present when we die, when we turn into the ash and mud and raw elements and energy we came from? few people i've loved have died. i was a teenager when my grandmother died, but distance had already done its damage by then. yet, i don't think she is gone. i don't think she is not present. her raw energy is somewhere. somewhere out there someone looks like her or smells like her or laughs like her or thinks like her.
and, so what about this? why do i find myself now thinking about this? can we be present in two different places? in three? and if so, could we handle it psychologically? would we know that we exist somewhere else? are we aware right now, right here, of this potential of ours?
i miss my grandmother. she raised me. she hid the "twinkies" (or spanish version thereof) from my brother and sister so that the little one could have a chance at them. sometimes you need an intervening hand in order for justice to transpire.