Lunch at the Food Court

Rice, beans, a mixed salad and a small piece of chicken breast on a white plate on a beige tray is what she put on the table in the middle of the food court. It wasn’t really in the middle of the court, but it was in a place where other eyes were watching. She sat down looked around and then looked at her plate to soak in all the vitamins in a long glance. She took her fork and knife in hand and started to enjoy the flavors on her plate.

She couldn’t help but notice this Asian man staring at her. Flattering as it may have seemed, she started to feel uncomfortable. Was she making heavenly faces as she placed each bite in her mouth? Did she spill any of the food on her blouse? Whatever it was, he was really making her uncomfortable, so she decided to stare back. It always works, they tend to look away. But he didn’t. He didn’t even take a bit of his meal.

Trying not to look up, she continued to enjoy her meal. She noticed a woman walk by her table and sit down in front of the Asian man. He smiled, stretched out his hand, she placed her hand in his and he said a prayer loud enough for the two of them to hear. However, as she watched this couple she read his lips and suddenly the reason he was staring at her fell into place.

When she had sat down and looked at her plate to soak in all the vitamins and nutrients, she also bowed her head and said a little prayer of thanks in the same language as the Asian man: English.

Written: August 27, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Google Images 

Heads are going to Roll!

It was the same every year, new comers, applause and flowers; a welcome back breakfast to toast the new work year. Lots of hugs and kisses because after all we are in a tropical country and that is how we greet people here. The foreigners are intrigued by all this kindness and a bit startled too for in their culture you greet just with a hand shake.

Later on we are placed into an auditorium where we need to listen to the director for about an hour, talk about what was done the previous year and what will be done or needs to be done this year. Some people are happy, some frustrated and the new comers just smile although they do not understand a word that is being said of this new language that they are yet to learn.

After this day we are off to planning our classes and getting ready to receive our students in the few days ahead. Some people need to work more than others for they need to rearrange their classroom furniture and hand up pictures and posters and make the atmosphere more pleasant so as to make the little ones fall in with love their new place and most of all make them want to be there.

For most of us, it is just getting ourselves ready with notebooks and planning. Of course there is so much red tape that you end up doing most of the reports even after classes have begun. It takes a while getting used to all of this.

Deep down inside for some reason, I knew this year was going to be different. But it wasn´t a good different, just a different that gave me the chills.

A couple of months had gone by after the glorious breakfast, when one afternoon as we were enjoying some coffee in the teacher´s room. The director came in to make an announcement. He didn´t look happy. People started whispering to each other what it could be. As soon as he began his speech, he was interrupted by his secretary who was carrying a box. It was a simple box covered in red and white wrapping paper.

The director opened the box and turned pale. I thought he was going to pass out and was hoping some one would catch him. He turned around and threw up all over the floor. His secretary quickly helped him to a chair. The gym teacher went to the box and looked in it. He apparently had a stronger stomach. He saw there was a note. His trembling hands took the note and with a muffled voice he read it loud and clear.

`I am here to do what one must do. This was the first of many. Remove from the box and show it to the others so they can know what is in store for their future. I am among you.´

Some people started to panic. The gym teacher cut open the box and everyone saw the most horrific scene. It was the coordinators head on a silver platter.

After recovering from the shock, most people tried to run out of the room but the doors were locked. Some of the women fainted. Some of the men started to cry. The director regained his strength and asked everyone to calm down. Cell phones were out and no one could call the police. It was a bizarre situation. The signals were down.

I just sat around observing some people´s reactions. There were some people that started laughing, which could have meant hysteria, they were just nervous. But others I do not think that was the case. This particular coordinator was not appreciated by some. But in my mind, I decided to erase this thought. Despite the fact that he was not liked, no one would want to see his head on a silver platter.

A chill ran up my spine as I looked at one of the windows, a hand covered in blood holding a Swiss knife was slowly moving as if the murderer were waving. I knew who the hand belonged to. I had to tell the director who it was. But then again, it belonged to one of the most popular teachers. The director wouldn´t believe me and would think that I was just slandering. I was stuck.

There was a loud noise; people held their breaths and the sound was repeated. It seemed as if all the doors to the room were being locked from the outside. Then, there were screams.

(Written January 10, 2015 – This was based on a dream that I had.) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Google Images : Peter Hudspith

When Your Superhero Ages…

              My superhero: dad.

            He was born in 1940, here is Brazil. He always says that he was born under a banana tree where a midwife pulled him by his right arm, explaining why he cannot lift it and why it is crooked. I have never doubted this story; however, as I grow older, I start to wonder how much of it is true.

            He has fought many battles ever since we met, one of which was having to leave behind his beloved homeland and move the wife and two little girls to the US, and to work in a mill. He used to be a plumber before the move, but in the States he worked a night shift so he could take care of his little girls while the wife took the day shift. You might be wondering whether he got any sleep at all; he did. He slept while the little girls were off at school. Although nowadays I wonder how he did it. He must have had special powers when I was little.

            When I was twelve, another little girl came along. Poor dad, his dream of having a son was over. He did not mind, though. He treated all his daughters the same. He used to play with them and their toys- tea parties, dolls, theater plays and dances. He never hit any of them, but then again his words hurt. His speeches were something that stayed in your mind and hurt very much.

            He has special powers when it comes to giving you advice and he is in favor of cultural diversity. I never heard him complain when I was growing up of feeling sick, not having any money or being unhappy about something in his relationship with mom.

            He had a tough time with alcohol and also his epilepsy. Watching him when he was having an episode was very frightening in both situations. I remember that the first time I saw him have a seizure and got to know that he had epilepsy was on a trip to Canada. We had stopped somewhere near New Hampshire when my uncle didn´t let me get in the back seat of our car and I saw dad having an attack. It was scary and I thought that he was dying. I believe I was 11 at the time. My mom ended up driving until we reached my other uncle´s home in Canada and then dad sat down with me to explain what had happened. 

            The time that he was having a hard time with drinking was when I was around 25. I had just gotten divorced and moved back in with him and mom that was when I realized that things were pretty ugly and my hero lost his charm and magic. The hero that I had looked up to and loved so much had died and this impostor had taken over his body and was making me sad. As a matter of fact, I thought that I was the one to blame for this. I was the first in the family to get divorced and then thought that it embarrassed him. His Kryptonite?

            Perhaps the biggest issue was the mixture of the medication that he took for his disease and the alcohol. The effect was bombastic. I remember once when the phone rang in the middle of the night. It was the police saying that they found dad in his car on the highway. Dad was pretty lucky for his arm used to go numb and he knew that a seizure was going to take place. That night he had parked his car and had a seizure. The police picked him up because they thought he was drunk. However, on that day he had not drunk a single drop. After the seizure he didn´t know who he was or where he was and it took some time for him to get his bearings. Nonetheless, his breath had the smell of alcohol on it and the police simply thought he had been drinking and took him to the station. I had to pick him up. We had a huge row on the way back home. After this, it took some time to rebuild our relationship. As I said, he had died for me.

            Several years went by and he stopped drinking all together when he found out he had a heart problem. Slowly my hero started regaining his super powers. He has a special way of looking at the bright side of life, always thinking of the positive aspects of a situation. He is witty and funny.

            This month my dad will turn 75. He is in another situation in his life nowadays. Three months ago he stopped talking. His voice just vanished. With a lot of effort you can hear him. He is very sad about it and it seems like he has aged a lot. It seems that his left vocal cord has paralyzed, therefore not allowing him to speak loud and clear.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that he used to smoke. He smoked for 62 years and it has been 3 since he quit. Due to this, he does not qualify for a vocal cord surgery because he has emphysema and he would have a tough time breathing. Poor dad! He loves talking to people. It is sad to see him just sit there when inside he has so much to say. He is going to a speech therapist to help with this new bridge.

            Watching your super hero age is not pleasant.

(Written : August 11, 2015)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

My SUPERHERO : DAD
Photo: Joao Arthur   

    

           

Strange People

People are strange so the song goes. In many ways they are.

They hurt you when they do not need you and treat you nicely when they want something from you.

If you have something to give, they will take it from you.

If they do something wrong and get in trouble for it, they turn their back on you blaming you for whatever wrong doing THEY have done.

People are strange so the song goes.

If they see someone in need they walk away leaving the person to die.

Kindness is not something common nowadays and when someone is kind to another, it is reported on the news as if it were something out of this world.

People are strange so the song goes.

They can lay down their heads on their pillows while others are sleeping on the streets and have nothing to eat.

They shoot at other people just because their skin color is different.

They hurt others virtually just because of a different opinion. They choose their friends based on the clothes they wear.

They love you and leave you just like changing the clothes they wear.

People are strange and so the song goes.

They go out for dinner but instead of enjoying each other´s company, they are talking to someone on their smart phones.

They take drugs even though they know all the harm they can suffer from this action.

People are strange and so the song goes.

Then people think that I am strange when I say to stop the planet because I want to get off.

If you are wondering what song I am referring to, it is one of my all-time favorites, People are Strange by The Doors.

(Written: August 11, 2015)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Google Images

4 A.M.

Today my kittens woke me up at four

For some reason I couldn´t sleep anymore.

After a few minutes of watching them play,

I sat up and started to pray.

Swish, swish the string ball rolled. 

Across the room it rolled.

Rise and shine!

 It´s a brand new day.

God give me strength to face what come, what may.

(Written August 8, 2015 at 4 am) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion ( me and my kittens)