Bienvenido. Estas en el mundo de Corazón Samaritano quien está listo para compartir contigo información, cuentos, anécdotas jocosas y alguna que otra curiosidad para que tengamos versatilidad en la comunicación. Soy una profesional de más de veinte años en bienes raíces, y recientemente publiqué dos libros, La Artista y el Guionista y el Fogón de Ruby.
You are in the world of Corazón Samaritano. I am ready to share with you information, stories, funny anecdotes, and odd curiosities so that we have versatility in communication. I have been a Real Estate Professional for over twenty years. I recently published two books, La Artista y el Guionista and, El Fogón de Ruby.
In front of me, every time I sit down to write is a little red car that no one will ever drive. No other possession bigger or smaller warms my heart more than thinking about how the little car traveled home in my leather purse.
He gave me the little red car, maybe in the hope of seeing it again when he comes to visit grandma. We spent that day playing and laughing hard.
He is only eight, but he likes to challenge me by playing games or racing around in the yard. His beautiful eyes look at me with unconditional love. He is pure and innocent.
It warms my heart to know he feels so comfortable when I grab him in my arms. He always fights to get out of my embrace just because he is playful and full of energy.
I’m not sure why he keeps giving me toys to take home. Could it be a bond of collaboration or preparation for the days he comes over and stays?
I may not know the reason, but I’m sure of one thing, he loves to sit very close to “Abuela” so she can watch him play his video games. I love him so much; it’s so hard to explain the bond between us that is even stronger than the bond of blood.
I enjoy these moments when we can be together. Even when my grandson grows older, for me, he will always be the sweet little kid the Lord sends us to Love.
Social Media can be a devastating destination for many who will encounter the wrong information. Sinister “friends,” or aggressive and opinionated people can cause your more headache than you need. Everyone has a view on life. The experiences you encounter while growing up, your influencers, and acquaintances help you develop the glass color lens to see the world. Since I was young, I had a strong opinion about many things. I probably didn’t have a firm conviction; what was important is that I thought I was right. Wow! Was I ever so wrong?
I had no issues expressing myself; my opinions always found a way to escape my young and immature mind to whoever wanted to hear. This quality of mine made me unpopular. I didn’t realize how wrong I was until recently. I was wrong not on all my views but in wanting people to see things my way. We all validate what we know as we see fit.
We all have a personal agenda. We may be seeking profit, an influential platform, or just for the simple fact that we want to be correct. Whichever your motive, it should never be a standard to enter in your circle. I realize through social media how animate we are about proving others wrong. It’s okay. Even the internet opinionated people are part of the life process.
We are in the sharing information era through multiple platforms. Today I found a post that had nothing to do with promoting any position about life. This post was about living life with anxiety. I guess the internet is also a way to cry aloud in the hope of sympathy or support. Nothing wrong with needing a word of affirmation. Good comments in a time of crisis could help more than we will ever know.
This person is my client, and although I wanted to say something about how I have lived with anxiety and panic since I was very young, I didn’t! See, I’m older now, and after realizing how part of my anxiety has to do with rejection, I opted to stay away from the subject. I don’t want some ill-intentioned person to say something to hurt me directly.
Nevertheless, here is this post in case it reaches someone, somewhere, someday. I live with anxiety every day of my life since I can remember. I used to pass out every time the nurse draw blood or the dentist injected the anesthesia. I pass out because I didn’t want the food at the public school or because I have a prolonged stomachache. As an adult, I can ride with someone in the car; I must drive. I still have anxiety when I go, but it is easier for me to cope.
Many years ago, I hated to fly, but I did. I never thought about cruising, but I just came from my fourteen cruises, and I will go back in December. I forced myself to succeed in business and my personal life. I understand now that I was probably too opinionated, too strong on my views, altogether too strong, but that strength has carried me here. Being assertive is not wrong. Allocating your strong opinions, whether you are right or not, without wisdom is.
I’m now quieter, more a thinker. I live my life and see the world from a different color lens. I hope I’m not late to mend the fences I took down along the way. I didn’t mean to prevail; I thought I was right and wanted to help. I wanted to be a part of your life and see you move forward. Despite my flaws, I wanted to see you soar. I’m sorry!
I’m not sure why these thoughts and many memories come to mind at the shortest provocation. I find myself at the pool, lounging on a chair. The sun is out, 88°, the wind is calming.
This setting makes me sleepy and reminds me of a time long ago when I was only 17 and expecting my first child. I had a complicated pregnancy that could have turned—very wrong.
My husband and I have been at the Sheraton Hotel in Miami since yesterday. Tomorrow we’ll sail on a cruise to the Bahamas.
Tropical storm Ida may develop into a hurricane. It’s heading to the panhandle; we may only get some rain and uncomfortable wind, “at least for my taste.” I’m a little worried nevertheless.
I decided to come outside to relax because being out always provides me comfort. I enjoy the scenery; the hotel is almost empty.
My husband asked why I decided to be outside instead of inside with an air-conditioned room. That brought me to the memories of the Hammock under the trees, in front of the house back in Puerto Rico.
My parents would hang a sheet over the hammock to shelter me from the sun. It wasn’t suitable for a pregnant lady, they claimed. I had the best support and unconditional love.
They may be the reason why my two-pound baby is a man today with kids on his own. I’m forever grateful, and although Dad is gone, he will forever be in my heart where I also keep my Mom.
No estoy segura de por qué estos pensamientos y muchos recuerdos me vienen a la mente a la menor provocación. Me encuentro en la piscina, descansando en una silla. Ha salido el sol, 88 °, el viento está calmando.
Este entorno me da sueño y me recuerda a un tiempo atrás, cuando solo tenía 17 años y estaba esperando mi primer hijo. Tuve un embarazo complicado que podría haber salido muy mal.
Mi esposo y yo hemos estado en el Hotel Sheraton en Miami desde ayer. Mañana navegaremos en un crucero a las Bahamas.
La tormenta tropical Ida puede convertirse en huracán. Se dirige al panhandle; es posible que solo llueva un poco y un viento incómodo, “al menos para mi gusto”. Sin embargo, estoy un poco preocupada
Decidí salir a la piscina para relajarme porque estar fuera siempre me da comodidad. Disfruto del paisaje; el hotel está casi vacío.
Mi esposo me preguntó por qué decidí estar afuera en lugar de adentro en la habitación con aire acondicionado. Eso me trajo a los recuerdos de la Hamaca bajo los árboles, frente a la casa en Puerto Rico.
Mis padres colgaban una sábana sobre la hamaca para protegerme del sol. No era adecuado para una mujer embarazada, sostenían. Tuve el mejor apoyo y cariño incondicional.
Pueden ser la razón por la que mi bebé de dos libras es hoy un hombre con hijos propios. Siempre estaré agradecida, y aunque papi se haya ido, él estará para siempre en mi corazón, donde también guardo a mi mamá.
Precious is the face of a baby girl. She glimpses at you, looking for a smile, an expression of love. In your arms, the little angel feels secured, protected, and invincible, at least for the first few years. She walks and runs with no worries at all, even dust herself with grace after she falls. Daddy is by her side, cheering her to get up. Daddy’s voice is the one she trusts the most. He will never guide her wrong.
Girls belong to the dads, everyone says, and even if they don’t, his approval means the world to whom soon will be a young woman facing college away from home. She will take with her all the praises and hugs she collected through the younger years. Those praises will keep her encouraged. She will not easily fall for misguided ones that could hurt her soul.
Daddy’s girl will never forget how warm and unconditional directions allow her to move forward without hesitation. Sincere praises, words of wisdom, and lots of love will cover her until one day she finds the one who deserves that she tear down the protection walls daddy helps her build because he loves her so much.
YOUR ROLE AS A FATHER GOES BEYOND BEEN A GOOD PROVIDER
“Don’t wait for your daughters to seek approval in the wrong places. It would be best if you also did the same for your boys.”
Today we had the most fantastic time of worship and fellowship. After service, we had a delicious meal. Well, my husband did; mine wasn’t so great—the sad and ugly truth.
Our city borders Kentucky, and we decided to be adventurous. A change of scenery it’s always good for the soul. Once we finished shopping, my husband had the idea of taking a different road to our lake house. We stay in this little bungalow when we don’t have clients. That will be at the end of this week.
Farmland with corn, beans, and tobacco adorned the fields as we traveled down the long narrow road. In our way, the Amish neighbors probably coming back from service waved at us with joy, especially the little kids on the back of the wagon.
Majestic new and old barns presented a photo op. I love saving them for future paintings. Domestic animals and a few horses enjoyed the perfect 82-degree weather. Along the road, a creek I didn’t have time to capture. Maybe another day. In the meantime, look at these small parts of heaven somewhere in Kentucky, the Home of the 101st Airborne Division in Fort Campbell.
Who else but you could leave in my being the deep emptiness that grew with me over the years. Perhaps not having your attention and flattery aroused the insecurity that I still carry with me to this day? Was it your lack of protection that allowed the innocent girl to fall prey to this wicked world? I was a baby, but you didn’t get to hold me or enjoy my sweet innocent smell.
Was that part of your regrets?
Time would not return to mend those mistakes. You understood it a little late. No worries, we all make mistakes. I have so many questions, so few answers. I want to understand you but failed to ask you. Now it’s too late. Those actions come at a high price. You were not the only one that carried the remorse and shame of your error. In me are some traces I can’t extinguish; they are like a voracious fire in the undergrowth. It seems that I continue to overcompensate with my own kids and grandkids for any lack of attention for fear of ending up with regrets like you at the end of your days.
I have no lack of forgiveness, and I do not even feel resentment, just an inexplicable sadness that I cannot tear down from my soul. I never told you about it for fear of hurting you. I suffered for the lack of your presence in my life. I cried for you and longed for you often. My mom made sure through the years that I had a great picture of you in my mind. At school, I felt rejected, perhaps because everyone knew that I did not belong to the family God chose for me in your absence.
So, I was growing and experimenting in finding where to fit in. It seems that the world did not understand me. I felt the need to be part of the big puzzle of life. I wanted to be in harmony with the ones closest to me. But something was missing. I could not fit in. I was an odd part of the puzzle. My edges were probably too rough, probably too uneven, and it just felt that I was in the wrong box. Over and over again, I felt their indifference.
That indifference caused pain and confusion in my lonely heart. Today you are no longer here. I don’t have the option to explain to you what the few years we shared meant to me. There is no opportunity to tell you about the pride I felt to prove to everyone that you existed. That you were not part of my imagination, that you were real. That I also had the surname enjoyed by the brothers I later met.
I continue to feel the sadness that does not seems to leave me. On occasions, it consumes me. What can I do? I’m like that; maybe that’s why those who lived near me didn’t understand me, appreciated me, or allow me to be part of their lives. I am different because I carry thoughts in my mind that they cannot understand. They did not know that I always loved you and wanted to meet you.
Although only less than a hundred miles divided us, I was not able to see you or be around you until the day you shortened the distance between us. I was thirteen, and I felt your closeness. Since that white car, like the white horse and the knight in the story, approached my house, my blood yelled at me; here comes your DAD!.
If you read and heard the song, it means that you have connected with my story. This story is my reality, and it may also be yours. Know that God is a healer and part of the healing is letting go. You may not belong to a piece of a group in society but will always belong to God. Blessings!