An epilogue

Peru 2014 139.JPG

Caral, Peru. Photo by J. Calderon, 2014.

“..we found you lying

Choking on the dirt and sand

Your former glories and all the stories

Dragged and washed with eager hands

But, oh, your city lies in dust…” “Cities in Dust” by Siouxsie and The Banshees

A terrible situation I have experienced for many years recently ended. (Year of milagros) Though I claimed I would samba in joy, I didn’t. Nor did I throw confetti, pop bottles or make it rain.  Certain routines feel awkward. Certain places bring back memories.  The reality of victory is simply that, a reality. Life has moved forward quietly.

I do ask if it’s really over. I wonder if my work with this particular situation is done.(My second career as an exorcist)Call it PTSD (though I don’t like to, given my personal experience loving someone with true PTSD) or shock, I have moments when I brace myself for more fighting.  After years of experiencing abuse, it will take time to resolve these reactions.

I wonder about the other party. Has this person reflected on choices made and actions taken? Can this person heal?  I don’t have it in me to truly hate this individual. Deep inside, underneath layers and strata, yes strata, of God only knows what, this person is in so much pain. It is a pain so visceral and so overwhelming that it has terrorized others for decades. That’s some mierda.   I will continue to lift this person up in prayer. Fix this person, Jesus.

Though I say “icant”


My secretary gave me this paperweight for Christmas. To know me is to love me.

or “I’m unable to can”


Team Petty. T-shirt collection to prove it.

for a laugh or to keep from cursing on the daily, I know I can. Taking on a malicious individual has taught me that I can stand strong. I can fight back without compromising my better self. I can win.

Rant 4: Another coward

“Play with fire and you’ll get burned.” How quickly you turned the tables, you yellow-bellied rat. You hemmed and hawed, full of alibis and excuses for your aloof behavior, wanting to have it both ways, your so-called independence and busyness balanced out by me waiting patiently by the phone. Weeks and months without so much as an I-hope-you-haven’t-killed-yourself phone call and you thought I’d be sitting in my little four-bedroom house embroidering robes for St. Anthony and the Virgin? You saw my house, shook hands with my parents and brother, saw my worth in all its simplicity and majesty and you still were foolish enough to walk. And now you’re going to accuse me of “indiscretion”, of my selfish need to do “what you had to do”? It’s true I love another man. I loved him even when I thought I might open my heart to you. I loved him even when I wasted my energy waiting on you to grow some balls. And I love him now more, much more than I could ever love a viper like you. You hid in a corner and sank your fangs into me without warning. But my blood is stronger than your weak poison. Burn.