Zip it, Lock It, Put it in your pocket!

Good friends don’t tell your story to others; they are gatekeepers to your heart. No one will bribe or persuade them to stab you in the back. They have fiercely defended your honor with all they can. Respect their trust, loyalty and return the favor. If you are ever in their position regarding their secrets, remember to zip it, lock it, and put it in your pocket, just like they have done it for you in the past.


How sad is having a lack of confidence? It makes us vulnerable to ill-intentioned people. I understand many of us to have reasons to feel less than, but know this: “YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH, YOU ARE WORTH IT, YOU WILL SUCCEED, YOU ARE EQUIPPED, PREPARED, AND ABlE TO CONQUER YOUR FEARS.” Receive it!

Nature is as hopeful as we are!

My flowers are ready to see the sun!

I am outside warming up by the fire. Unexpectedly I glance over the flowers wanting to greet 2021 before their time. They are ready to see what the new year will bring, just like the rest of us.

Oh, Lord! Bring us with the Spring season quickly approaching the bright colors and take away all our sorrows. Our hope is not in the vaccine is in the blood of the Lamb that washes our sins and covers all of us with love and long life.

How do you pick up the pieces?

Watching the bachelorette (don’t judge) I, realize that it is not easy to mend a broken heart. Where do you find the broken pieces if you don’t know where to start? Those missing parts of our hearts got scattered in the places where we said our goodbyes.

Will they be in the mountains or maybe in the valleys of your homeland? Some fragments may be in a nation you visited only once. If only you could follow the trail of tears, the journey would not be so hard. What if you don’t find all the pieces, or if they are no longer intact?

Your heart will never be as complete as before someone crushed the feelings you held inside. What would happen then? Would a broken heart love with the same strength and trust? Or your feelings will now be subpart. Some are incapable of giving you what they never had. Those feelings of selflessness and true love are strange to some.

How can they measure unconditional love when they don’t have a reference to start? We all want to love without reservation and would like to express our most sincere feelings without holding back. Some cannot help hurting you. They are not responsible, do not blame them is just that their heart is no longer whole.

Holding back is a vicious cycle

If maturity had come earlier, we all would have spoken our hearts sooner than later. We were shy, too insecure, or afraid of a dismissive reaction. We should have told someone, thank you, I love you, or I need you before it was too late. Instead, we grow older with those feelings hidden in our minds. I often think about what my unspoken words would have changed.

Maybe someone was waiting to know how I felt before taking a step closer. It is common in family dynamics. Everyone is guarding the heart against unnecessary pain, especially when we are young and don’t know how to open up about these matters of the heart. So many years lost is a tragedy.

We suppose we are the only ones afraid. I know that is not the case. I hope, is not too late for this message to reach someone in need of encouragement, no matter the age. Those lost opportunities prick our minds like a knife in the heart. No more chances are near or far.
Those we once loved then are not here, maybe, not even alive.

Lost opportunities to extend feelings we buried inside, worried about a cynical reaction. We live wondering if they ever knew how we feel. I know in my case, I feared rejection. Perhaps that’s why I always walked with a stern face, looking more secure than I am.

Maybe I gave them reasons to keep me at a distance. That was far from my desire. And so, it is that everyone has a misconception of the truth that only resides in you. I believe that’s why these types of writings are my favorite.

I’m trying to send a message to the Universe in the hope it reaches some corners of the world, or even the heaven where I know are some of those I miss and love dearly. Even if I never told them.


While painting this picture yesterday, I had some challenges that made me reflect on a few things. I believe that I was trying to copy the inspiration painting to perfection. I wanted the same details, a similar distance between the trees and the water. I also wanted to add a landmass to place the cabin and a campfire in the woods. Well, the campfire did not fit! That is when I started thinking about this subject.

We should not attempt to copy the life of others step by step. Life does not work like that. We have our sphere of influence, reach, and space to occupy. Our lives are not like any others. Recognize, be happy for others, and strive to do as good as your potential allows you.

Don’t hesitate to push yourselves to explore and develop your unique talents beyond your mental limitations. Prepare for mistakes along the way. Do not get discouraged. You can always regroup and start the process all over again to find the desired success.

I painted too much landmass in this painting. It required me to wipe half of it with soap and water. I also use acetone to get rid of the impurities left behind by the darker colors. Sometimes you are trapped, and the mistakes you made in your life are hard to remediate. Just like in this painting.

Do not lose heart. Remember that over two thousand years ago, someone paid the ultimate price for you to have hope. There is nothing or no one else that can give you a clean slate to start from afresh. Forgive yourself and anyone that crossed your path and hurt your heart.

That is the best medicine to get your soul ready as a new canvas. Be in the best position to paint a pretty picture of your desires and watch them become a reality.

Happy life and happy painting.


Ella no era cualquier muchacha de barrio. Su altura y su postura la destacaban a lo lejos. Solía bajar hasta mi casa todas las tardes para tomarse un café con mi madre. Le gustaba vestir una bata corta que mostraba sus piernas hermosas. Ella la llamaba la bata loca. Traía en el bolsillo su perrito chihuahua bien guardado para que no lo vieran los otros perros cuando bajaba la jalda.

Mi madre y ella tenían la costumbre de compartir un cigarrillo “Parliament”, símbolo de la amistad estrecha que compartían. Los días que ni se encontraban una o la otra dejaba media golilla para que quien la encontrara la terminara. Cosas de amigas que contaban con una diferencia de edad que no les importaba ni hacía diferencia en su relación estrecha.

Siempre me pedía que le hiciera las uñas, aunque yo era mucho más chica. Esta amistad fue desde mi niñez hasta que un día ella partió a mejor vida. De mi madre la mejor amiga, a ella le contaba las aventuras y todas sus travesuras que yo no entendía en esa época.

Le pidió a mi mamá que si ella se iba primero le arreglara el esmalte con el estilo francés que me gustaba, así lo hizo mi mamá en su honor cuando de repente ella partió para nunca más volver dejándolos a todos en un profundo dolor. Yo siempre tuve presente que si quería salir con el grupo de las chicas del barrio ella era la única que me llevaría. De esas salidas todavía guardo una foto donde solo tenía once años. Aquí les dejo una copia.

Siempre se ocupaba de cuidarme no sin antes amonestarme a que me quedara callada, y no contara nada que pasara en esos paseos. No quería que le fuera con el cuento a mis padres si mis hermanas andaban de enamoramientos. Ahora que recuerdo estás cosas me da gracias y sobre todo siento mucho agradecimiento.

Ella era secretaria en una oficina de abogado en el pueblo de San Lorenzo. De ahí aprendí a amar la taquigrafía pues siempre me dejaba jugar con la antigua maquinilla. Alguna vez también logré desempeñar la profesión que me recordaba aquellos tiempos.

Recuerdo que llegó a trabajar en el hospital viejo como ayudante de enfermera. Qué bueno que ahí también pude contar con su amor cuando a mi hermana se le ocurrió que jugáramos a las enfermeras, solo que yo era la enferma. Aunque las dos nos vimos mal porque ella también tomó medicamento. Por poco este cuento no llegó a hacerles porque casi no salgo de aquel incidente.

De adulta también tuve la fortuna de trabajar a su lado cuando por cosas de la vida me encontraba en el extranjero. Ella ya vivía en Norwalk, Connecticut y cuando yo llegué para mi sorpresa me tocó trabajar no solo en la misma fábrica pero también en su mesa.

La Swank fue el epicentro de aquel nuevo encuentro, pero yo duré allí solo tres meses. Me fui de nuevo a la Isla, pero mantuvimos comunicación y los regalos a los que desde niña me había acostumbrado no se hacían esperar.

Esta era una mujer sin igual de tono y mirada firme. A nadie se le ocurría quererla enredar porque ella era sabia y muy decidida. Todavía sale en mis sueños. Debe ser el anhelo de volverla a ver algún día.

Aquí les dejo unos recuerdos que todavía guardo de ella, mi querida amiga, mi guía, mi hermana.