Me, Myself & I

 

5.5.25.  2:00 a.m.  oops.  It’s 5.5.24

My friend We asked me today.  “Who is Ramona, who is Ramona, really”   After a few seconds, I replied,    First, there are two of me,   The hard me and the soft me.     The soft me is magic.   The soft me is romantic and sees the beauty in the world.   The soft me makes things beautiful and romanticizes everything.  The soft me believes in love.    And the hard me works, and sees the ugly in the world.  The hard me has been hurt and it’s made me stone and it’s hardened me   It’s built walls around me to protect me from what I once believed to be beautiful friendships, beautiful family love and the disappointments and belief in people.   The beliefs I held so close to my heart and believed in with every ounce of my being now just shadows of that softness I long to be.  

I went back and thought of my weeks in Spain last fall and remembered I felt soft, and happy and I was all I wanted to be.   And then when I landed in Texas, I felt I had literally transformed.  I felt only one thing.  Hard.  And I remember wondering.   Is it because I’m speaking English    Because my voice changes.  In Spanish I am soft.  In English I am hard.   Literally.     In Spain I wrote and spoke of love and I smiled more than I had smiled in years.   I get back here and I have to become romanticized by music or get lost in writing love letters and fantasies or love stories to become soft again.  

Of course I’m going on more here than I did during my conversation with my friend.   Because I am thinking of who I really, truly am.    I began writing now on another note page I have of a story I’m writing and one of the chapters will be Me, Myself and I….

So who am I .   Truly….  Ramona, Mona, Mia.

Ramona, the hard one who protects and provides.   Mona, me,   And Mia, his.   Or is it just Ramona and Mona Mia.  Only 2.     I have to think about that.  Because Mona is all things beautiful that Mia has brought to life.   Mia has given Mona life, in all my childlike innocence, it lives, she lives, they live.   

The soft side of me is the best part of me and the part I wish I was always.  Mona, Mía …. The one who wants to love and be loved.   The one who wants to create and bring to life all that makes me and the ones I love, smile,    Ramona holds people at a distance.  Mona is free and invites everyone in.    Mona Mía is playful, and curious and wants to discover and share all that is beautiful.   Where as Ramona guards all things she loves afraid the world, the insincere will only tarnish all she holds dear.  Tired of being disillusioned. Tired of putting efforts where others will take but never nourish to make better.  So why try.    

Mona, Mona, Mona Mía…..   oh if i could write stories, I would write of beautiful loves songs, and dancing in the rain, walks on the beach with the love of my life at my side.   The running, the laughing, the adventures and days end in his arms.    

She also asked me what I found so attractive or what I saw in him truly, as I talked about all I am when I’m with him.    I couldn’t speak of specifics.  I could only speak of what he makes me feel.   Peace.   Even in all the turmoil or inquietude, he is peace.    One day many years ago as we lay in each others arms he said when he is with me he has peace.   I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I know what it means.    And peace is what Ramona seeks, to always be Mona   And Mia, is the cherry on top of that sky high mountain of sweet cream over raspberries and blackberries wrapped In a crust so flaky, you get lost in the flavors of life.    

Mia.  Mía.  Mía.    His his his… no reasons, no justifications, no understanding.  No understanding.  Just love.  Pure and simple love.    Unconditional, at its best.    A fantasy, algo incansable.    Untouchable, yet touchable.  Like taking a small bird into my hands and speaking to to as I look into it’s eyes but having to let go so it lives as it’s meant to live.  So we live what is meant to be lived.  Until the day arrives when we are free to live all that we’ve dreamed and fantasized about (Listening to Soñar by Shalim as the teardrops take me back to Ibiza).    

It’s funny how a song can wrap me in the words of my heart.  They spill but the tune or song changes and the words hide,    

Are we all 2 people.  The survivor overpowering the soft person we dream of being.     Soft for a man, is it peace?    Soft for a woman, is a whirlwind of all things beautiful?   Kind of like the little fairies in Sleeping Beauty with their pretty dresses, can spin all things into perfection, in an instant.   Whether it’s a snack or full course meal, a picnic on the beach or side of the road.   A lit candle, or a song to lighten the room where the two of you will find peace.     A smile, or that certain look in your eyes that will bring him to his knees.  The soft scent of your favorite fragrance that makes him wild as he pushes his face into your hair searching for your neck to kiss.     And then, allowing him to be his masculine self in the planning and the fixing, as you watch him smiling with pride that he is by your side, if just for a moment, he feels all a man is meant to feel.   And you, run your fingers through his hair. Pushing that strand of hair that always finds its way to his forehead.   Pushing forward to kiss him for his efforts in making everything perfect and bringing the peace, you long for every day, to life.   

Is it love that makes us soft?   Do we become pliable?   Do we flow freely?   And is it then that the world truly becomes beautiful.  No reason to be hard.   Maybe.   Because it is then that the child in us is allowed to come out and play.   You know the one we become when we have no limits.   To run and play, to smile and laugh till we fall on the floor.    I believe so.  Because when love is lost, or there is an absence of love, we become hard.     Justifying, and hiding all our vulnerabilities that, in our minds, makes us weak.    

Is that why people don’t talk about love, until love is talked about?  Is that why strangers tell me of their love stories, when I tell them I’m writing a love story.  Are we all so hungry to be soft.  Are we all just so desperately wanting to feel loved and to love with no limits.   And when we have an instant to tell our stories, the words and emotions pour from us like the opening of the gates of a dam so ready to release all of its waters.     

Love….  Life…..  we live it and allow it to form us

But, the only thing I can say is I always want to be soft.    

And I wonder, his love of my stories, listening to my words that create far away lands that always lead back to him, is that his way of always falling in love with me over and over again…..   I think I veered off, but yeah.   Yeah yeah…. Mona. Mona. Mía….    (Only Ángels -still in love).  Ibiza Ibiza.  One day we’ll be in Ibiza,..