Raquel Martina Martinez

The lighthouse tosses her silver mane. She turns her back for a moment but then returns for one more look into the dark, into the distance of yesterdays. She stares into the vast ocean, into that faraway place she cannot see, that place she can never reach. With the cruel passing of time, seasons fade into each other. Blame and promises wash away. Her constancy wears away anger and pardons expectations and regrets.

Every time my ex-husband and I moved, I learned to clean house and sell or give away things I did not want to pack and move to the next house. The two times I got divorced it was easy to get rid of the ex’s junk. Without his clothes, his collections, and his tools out in the garage, it left lots of room for my stuff.  It also gave me permission to replace all his man cave junk with nice decorations. When I married HoneyBunch and we had to combine two households, I cut all my possessions in half by offering things to my three kids.  They were just starting their own homes, so some took furniture; others took household items. I had a monster of a garage sale and called the Disabled Vets to come get the rest. Even like that HB and I had doubles of too many things and so the downsizing continued for a year after we married. We still have two dining tables, two sets of “grandma’s china,” and two truckloads of Christmas decorations that neither one of us will surrender. As an educ

She cooked his favorite supper and waited for him to get home from work. Six o’clock turned into seven, so she called to see what kept him.  When he didn’t answer she left a voice mail. Are you working late?  Are you on your way home? After a half hour, she tried again, tamping down her suspicions, quieting her imagination. She schooled her voice to cover her concern. I made your favorite supper.  Should I go ahead and eat without you? At nine o’clock, she put away the food, her hunger replaced with anger and disappointment. The cycle was starting again. She knew what to expect next. He started coming home later and later each day.  At first, he blamed work, and instead of six, the norm became ten or eleven at night. She stopped asking for an explanation, because when she did, he yelled at her; he accused her of nagging. Her silence gave him license to do whatever he pleased, but even when she dared to utter a protest, he turned the blame on her.    Are you gaining w

Thirty-something years ago, a lady who worked across the hall from me, handed me a well-worn paperback.  “It reminded me of you,” she said.  I didn’t know what that meant so I just took it and thanked her.  “I want it back when you finish.” I promised her that I would. It must have been a Friday because I remember reading it straight through and returning it right away.  We didn’t discuss the book’s plot since it was about a haggard, single mother of three who falls in love with the cutie-pie next door.  He turns out to be the husband and father she and her children deserve.  I was a haggard mother of three, married to a man who acted single. There was no cutie-pie next door willing to rescue me.  On the contrary, the neighbors next door rented a room to a weirdo who waited for me to go outside so he could peek at me from behind the ligustrums.   But one could wish. My experience with romance novels was limited. It dated back to when I was an adolescent and I read my mother’s

Back to school. Haircuts School clothes Uniforms Shoes Backpacks Physicals, vaccines, new bifocals The list is just beginning - There is also the (cue music)  SCHOOL SUPPLY LIST One for each child of school age.  8-count watercolors, 16-count watercolors Ten-packs of Ticonderogas # 2, red pens, blue pens Eight-count colored markers Map colors, scissors, ruler Glue sticks, glue bottle, AND a roll of cellophane tape College-ruled, wide-ruled, and primary-ruled reams of paper.  TWO boxes of facial tissue Pocket folders, binders, composition books Highlighters Sticky notes  and the ever-intriguing PROTRACTOR.  Crayons, rubber erasers, scissors Baby wipes and hand sanitizer. . . Will the list ever end? No. On the first day of school the kids will come home with even more stuff you have to buy.