Monday, June 2, 2014


This really has been weighing on my mind for about the past two weeks.  My brother asked me a very important question.  He said " sis when are you coming home ".  It actually has been a question that have been hoping no one would ask me, or I tried to avoid.

What does home mean to you?  For me home means my mom.  When I think of home, I think of my mom, making tacos the only way she knows how.  Deep fried in greasy oil and mexican rice that taste so good. No matter how hard I try to make it, it never taste anything like my moms.  Home means a happy heart and a feeling of excitement.  Knowing when I got to California my mom would be there just as excited as me to see each other.  I know this sounds absolutely weird but Home means my mom checking my hair for piojos (head lice)...lolol.  I know gross huh!  It was more about the great feeling of her fingers running through my crazy curls.  Thats what HOME means to me.

My mother passed away two years ago.  She was the world to me. I can not even sum up in words how much she means to me.  So need less to say when she passed away, it was not the easiest thing for me.  I had plenty of time to to wrap it around my head that she would not survive cancer.  Not because it was anything the doctor said, just because it was easier to accept the worst in hopes she would be a survivor.  I was able to spend a lot of time with her during her two year diagnosis.  Boy! I would give anything to do it all over again and again.  I really felt like I had a long time to prepare for the end.  I took lots of pictures, said " I love you a million times ", kissed her as many times as I could and cuddled with her often.  And when I was away I called her countless times a day.  I always had some cooky crazy thing to tell her and we laughed out loud all the time.  Her death has been the hardest thing I have had to deal with.  It still feels so real.  I still cry a lot, and I am just not sure when the heart ache will end. 

So when asked. " when you coming home " the answer is not easy.  I always went home for my mother.  And now she is no longer there.  And the thought of going home just doesn't seem that easy.  I am just not ready to face California knowing at the end of my travel she is not going to be there.  One day I will get back home, but today is not the day.

Always stealing kisses

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