Church Bells Reminds Me of Her

You are my church. When I see the church, it reminds me of you ~he said to me today. When I hear the church bells, it’s how I hear your voice; it reminds me of you since the first day when I knew you.

When I travel abroad, I look for the church buildings that make me feel closer to the pretty girl I know. Because they are a symbol of the faith my loved one holds very dearly. ~he continued.

Today the church bells sing of your name. It showcases in my mind the warm memories we share—years of hoping, wanting, and waiting. You seem so far even now when we are so near. Let me walk in the path where she walked, even if she is forever gone. ~he confesses to crying out to the clouds one day.

I want to see the sites that adorn the town she called home since I met her in that particular room of the web. But will I ever hold her in my arms and caress the face I grew to love so much? I don’t know; the wait is so hard. So, I keep the souvenirs that life allows me to hold in my hands when I visit Paris.

I have the dreams of a young love that didn’t blossom into a full flesh Rose. There is no ocean in between us anymore. What’s the hold? Timing has never been on our side; probably, the church bells need to sound a little louder!

I plan to call you my wife forever, the one I loved. I will accompany in my guitar the bells sound that makes me tear up every Sunday morning at the square while I call in prayer the name I long for, Mariaan.


It was not by choice or desire. I did not fit in the mold; no one of my stepsiblings claims me as one of their own. I did not get invited to participate in the sports, nor the classmates called my name. My attempts to blend in brought me more pain.

Along the school years, no group wanted me nearby— my lonely self-found content with faithful friends that got close along the way. At the time, I could not explain it. I understood it later; they were also experiencing lots of hurts.

My God always provides even at the time of extreme brokenness. Why did I have to endure so much rejection in this world? Without letting out what I have inside, the loneliness turned to sadness and, on many occasions, tones of grey.

Anger was never the answer until recently, when my heart grew tired of the selfish family behavior. My mind was at odds and disbelieved of others’ mean plots. My soul was changing with a feeling that wrecked the world I carefully created around myself. I acted quickly and stopped it in its track; hate will never solve my problems, not even once.

Unconditional love requires compromise and sacrifice. Let them keep what’s rightful mine. God has always provided all my wants and needs. Even my whims he fulfills without complaint. None of you were part of my childhood, my teenage years, or adult life; what makes you feel you can hurt my twilight years that seem so nearby?

I am above it all now; I gave up on you and found my purpose. God gave me a mom, my boys, and the grandkids to complete the mission for what He created me. I have the ones that are my tribe. You are no longer wanted, requested, needed, or even desired.

I still love you, even if it is from a distance. It is too late to tear down the fence that separated us along the way. You are to be found guilty of my childhood sorrows. You built a barrier so tall a little girl could not climb on her own. You let jealousy and lack of love for the baby girl that came to your house made her feel invisible as a ghost.

You also had a significant loss and your loneliness but made me your scapegoat. The Lord saw fit to provide me with a clan of my own to finish my days that seem every day closer to the end.


I find myself watching the Oscars countdown this afternoon. I ran to the kitchen to get myself a warm bag of freshly made popcorn to get in the mood. Popcorn is one of those snacks I don’t like much, but it seemed appropriate this afternoon. I noticed how fast I was eating the extra small bag.

I asked myself, What’s the hurry? At that pace, I will have nothing left in the first five minutes of the show. I realized I was eager to find those pieces I like best. Some of the florets are soft, but others, very few of them are crunchy, little more burned. The flavor, shape, and texture are different. It makes me correlate my not so extraordinary pop corn-eating experience with the comments of the show.

We have experienced a lot of changes lately. It’s been a powerful movement for equality and opportunities. Voices denouncing abuse in the workplace have touched many sectors. From Hollywood to Bollywood, from Corporate America to Good Morning America, from Univision to Galavision, platforms allowed and or broadcasted thousand of voices to express their discontent.

There is a momentum around the world, the social injustice and workplace abuse we will not tolerate; our voices will not be silent ever again. We are one race even if we have a different shape, color, flavor, or even different texture attributes like my bag of popcorn.