Sweet Red.....

Was something that my Dad would call me growing up but initially, it was just "red". Not because of the red birth mark that is slapped across my right neck that's often been associated with a hickey, but because when I was a baby I would cry so hard and then hold my breathe until I would turn.....red.  I knew that when he referred to me as that, I wasn't in any kind of trouble and that everything was going to be alright. Unfortunately, those days came far and few between.  My father and I didn't have the close and loving relationship that I witnessed from most of my friends. It was something that I secretly longed for but in the end, I settled for him just being around.

At the time, I didn't realize how difficult it must've been for him raising a family of five kids, working a full time and sometimes even a part-time job while going to night school in order for him to get his college degree.  I took it for granted that food would always be on the table, a roof over my head and clothes on my back.  Of course I never knew of the sacrifices that he made so that we wouldn't have to go without.  It was only when I was away at college did I fully appreciated everything that he did for me that I finally was able to say everything that I never did.  I wrote him a letter of gratitude, of appreciation and of love. Later, I  found out he shared it with everyone with tears streaming down his cheeks and that it was one of his prized possession.  I'm glad that I had taken that opportunity to expressed that to him because it would only be a few shorts months later that I would be returning home to help take care of him and then soon after be attending his funeral.

Although several years have since passed, I miss my father every single day.  It's a loss so profound that I don't know that I will ever recover from.  I never found out why he started calling me sweet red, but it's a nickname that I will forever cherish.

Growing up...

As a twin to a much beloved and only boy in a family of three older girls was extremely difficult.  I don't know when I finally realized that I was a twin but when the realization did dawn on me, it never left.  I felt burdened with the title.   For the longest time, we were referred to as " the twins" and it didn't help that my mother wasn't very creative with naming us as Eric and Erika.  I guess I should be thankful that she changed up the spelling.  She always told me that she named me after Erica Cain after my Uncle's favorite soap star on All My Children.  I don't know whether it's true or not, but that was the only thing that I liked about my name.

My brother is older by two stinky minutes and at every given opportunity, he felt  compelled to remind me of this fact by saying "as your older brother......" give me a freaking break. It also ticked me off that he mastered everything that he tried whereas I struggled with the few things that I attempted  and as a twin, everything ended up as a competition and I was always destined to be on the losing end.  It was hard just trying to be me and not being identified as a "twin" connected by shared birthdays, friends, schools and just about everything else in between.  We were always "conjoined"; seen and treated as one and never as two separate individuals.  Maybe that was why I jumped at the opportunity to go as far away as possible to attend college where I could forge my own identity and create my own set of friends and not be Eric's twin; a title I resented.

Sebastian's Mommy

Now when I hear this I smile but that wasn't always the case. At first,  I was resistance to this title and would become enraged.  You see, Sebastian is my overweight, some-timey, Maltese that most people only see as a dog; however, he has come to symbolize so much more than a mere pet.  I've experienced my share of loss in my life and at one point in time, I didn't really have the will to want to carry on. It was during this period of time, when Sebastian entered my life.

 A friend of mine was having problems with her dog "knocking down" her youngest child.  She often lamented to me that she didn't know what she was going to do until she remembered that months prior, I told her than that if she ever wanted to give him away, to first give me a call.  Well, she did and thus began my journey into mommy hood. 

Like any relationship, we've had our ups and downs. At one point in time, I had swore that I was going to feed him some chocolate, but that was in the beginning when I had it up to my neck with his excessive barking, using my carpet as his personal bathroom and his absolute refusal to eat anything that didn't resemble chicken.   But once we got past that, he and I came to a understanding that we both needed the others unconditional love to survive. 

He had brought back the joy that had been missing in my life. I can always count on him to know exactly what I needed from him. Whether it's an abundance of his sloppy, wet kisses after a bad day of work or his reassuring face to keep me from crying.  Regardless of how bad I looked or smelled or how crummy I felt, I can always look to him to be right by my side.  My friend once told me that I saved Sebastian's life but I quickly told her, that it was the other way around, he saved mine and for that reason alone, I proudly call myself  Sebastian's mommy. 

In the begining....

I was so stupid.  I was convinced that I had just met the man that I wanted to marry. I was 17, with very little life's experience to draw upon but, like most 17 year olds, I thought that I knew everything and no one else knew anything. But, I knew what I liked and I liked what I saw. He was tall, dark and I thought, as he did, that he was incredibly handsome with that unblemished complexion, 6'5 frame, devilish smile and a body that only God himself could have only created. And for the first time, I had those silly butterflies in my stomach that I've heard so many people speak of each time he glanced my way. I thought that this is what they call love and I was all in.