The Importance Of being Idle

Art by John Park

Sharon Olds, from "Something Is Happening", One Secret Thing: Poems

abundance! by annalaura_art

technophile 👾 (art by @cybervoidgirl on Twitter)

“He’s going to be, he is the man who will dance around the living room with her and make silly faces and tell her silly stories and tell her that he loves her all the time and take her on great adventures and read her amazing stories and make cool shit with her and go on long walks with her and put the world right for her. Just the way they look at each other. She can’t see shit. But he sees a lot. It’s different than he looks at me. It’s so pure. He notices every change in her face. Every noise that comes out of her.  Just having someone doting on you like that. I just think how lucky she’s going to be. And being able to see that energy between a father and daughter. Even if I didn’t get to experience that myself, just to be around it now, it does a lot of healing for me. I feel like so much is slowly repairing in my cellular being. I lost my dad when I was young. Things were heavy dark. I’ve always associated love with pain and tragedy and loss and grief, but knowing that I can let go of that, and experience love in a light and beautiful way. It’s exciting. Like, love is fun. Love is pretty fucking fun.”

“We’re unpacking it, little by little. She held us all together. Always made sure there was food on the table, always washed our clothes, always took care of me when I was sick.  But she was fierce when we were kids. She’d get angry with me, zero to a hundred, in a second. I could never understand why. I know she had a tough upbringing: Guatemala, small town, no father. And I’ve had my own share of demons. It’s been a twenty-year struggle with alcohol. I would come over here completely blacked out, blasting music, acting like a dirtbag. There are neighbors in this building who still won’t talk to me. I also said some hurtful things to my dad. He wanted nothing to do with me in his final years. But I’m seven months sober now, so God willing we’re done with all that. Little by little I’m trying to be the man of the household. I’m suppressing old feelings and just trying to help her be comfortable. I’m not a good cook. But I kill it for breakfast. So on Saturdays I make breakfast: eggs, beans, bread, soup. She’s a very good soup eater. I try to get everyone seated at the table, and involve my daughters in the conversation. Afterwards I line up some good entertainment. She likes the television. When it’s warm I’ll take her to the park. A few months ago I brought her to a soccer game at the Red Bull Arena. It was Colombia vs Guatemala, too perfect. My father was Colombian, so we’re all half-and-half. I maxed out my credit card and bought the whole family tickets. It was unbelievable. A year ago I wouldn’t have even been able to enjoy it. I’d have been drinking beers nonstop. I’d probably have blacked out by halftime. But I was completely sober, watching the field, watching my family enjoy the game. My mom was loving it. She was cheering like crazy. Wearing her Guatemalan jersey.  Guatemalan flags everywhere, and lots of quetzals, the national bird. She was in heaven. I honestly think it was one of the best days of her life. Of course I’m seeing how happy she is, and I’m like damn. I only wish my dad was here to see all this.”

Xochimilco, Cuidad de México // Jorge Díaz Henry