But did you die?

I struggled through the eighth grade and eventually (through counselling and time) came to view my new town as home.  It was summer time again and since I was so old and mature (going into high school now) I was able to work the summer camp at the church.  I can remember it like yesterday.  The brownish/orangish grotesque carpet with the cream colored walls.  The hollow, three step stage that boomed with each child’s stomp.  The squeals and shrieks of kids playing four square.  The smell of crayons and unwashed bodies.  We were a few weeks into summer and it was the day that we all were looking forward to.  Water day! “Hey check it out,” another “youth worker” called over to me.  I went to the window and saw what every 14 year old boy loves to see; girls in bikini’s.  I could see some friends of mine standing with a girl I didn’t know.  I remember being immediately struck by how wholesome and Godly she looked… Nah, just kidding.  I remember thinking she had a nice rack.  Crude I kno

It was the summer of 1996 and I was thirteen.  After spending the week at camp, fervently praying that we would not have to move from our home in Fort Lauderdale, my parents broke the news.  We were relocating to this small town called Fort Myers.  Weeping into my pancakes I was filled with a myriad of emotions.  Anger at them that they would pull me away from my upcoming eighth grade school year (when all the good school trips happen), sadness that I would be leaving my friends, nervous that I would be starting anew, and disbelieving that God would deny my requests.  Through syrupy tears I prepared my heart to leave the life that I knew to enter a new (and what would end up as the best) chapter in my life. In a whirlwind of activity my life was boxed up and moved to a quaint home in North Fort Myers, Florida.  I tried to stay positive but it was summer and I felt utterly alone.  Several parents forced their children to invite me over and luckily I hit it off with a few teenagers my

In one moment I am soaring.  “You’ve been accepted into the respiratory program,” the email says.  The testing, prerequisite classes, interview and obnoxiously long waiting period has finally payed off with that one sentence.  I received the news while walking out of the BLS (basic lifesaving/CPR) class I was taking for work and even though there were still people taking a test a whoop escapes my mouth.  With a grin and a quick sorry to those still working I make my way out into the hallway and begin making calls to tell my loved ones.  I finally got in!  I have an end date!  I am going to be able to have a living wage!  My heart swells. Then comes the fear. I am so excited and a small thought pops into my head.  “You better not fail.”  From that one spore grows overwhelming self-doubt that threatens to take away everything I have worked toward.  It will start with something small like putting off getting a shot that I will need so that I can go on clinical rotations.  Then

They say that writing is supposed to be therapeutic.  Today I found out that my brother is back in jail and I just needed to write my feelings.  I am not posting this for sympathy but maybe my words can help someone else who has someone they love who keeps making the same mistakes over and over again or maybe it will help the offender realize what they put their friends and family though when they don't change. D. A. Acevedo ***** I take a look at my phone and see an hour old text Call me as soon as you get this is all that it says Is Papi dead and has there been an accident These questions run though my head My finger shakes as I select dad’s name Of course… Your brother has been arrested He is back in jail I’m sorry I’m in a meeting I’ll call you when I am done My only reply is Of course… I am rather shocked that I don’t feel at all I expected some tears But he has acted odd Ever since his probation ended last month Something had been off Of course…

Have a life filled with wonder. It is so easy to fall into a rut.  I get up, get the kids ready for school, drop them off, pick them up, eat lunch, put the kids down for nap, try to do homework, go to work or school, attempt to spend time with my wife, maybe watch a show, and then get a little sleep so that I can repeat it all again the next day. The weekend comes and I attempt to relax.  Rinse; lather; repeat. Before you know it it’s a week later and the to do boxes are mostly checked and everything starts over. I had a dream the other day that I had turned into a kid again.  In the dream I played and imagined.  I looked at the world and was filled with curiosity.  I didn’t know why flipping a switch turned on the lights, and it didn’t bother me.  I didn’t care about bills, car repairs, or what was happening on Facebook.  The biggest concern was whether or not we had any Totino’s Pizza for lunch.  As the saying goes, the world was my oyster. Levi building a repair station.

            No one who was taken from this box has come back.   I didn’t know, or perhaps I didn’t want to know, how it was that I found myself here.   It was dark, so dark that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.   Periodically, a blinding light would shine from above and when it finally receded, those who were left would breathe a sigh of relief.   Originally there were twenty of us.   Our names didn’t really matter; just the fact that we were not alone was enough to calm most of us down.   We’ve searched the walls by feeling the perimeter and have not been able to find an exit.   I had felt my way to a corner, thinking that whoever or whatever has been removing the others would be less likely to find me if I was huddled away in a corner.   I sat down to try and think when the bright light erupted from above again.             Throwing my arms over my head I attempted to see what was above me when I was scooped up out of the corner.   Without thinking, I tried to flail a