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A Long Visit

June 16th, 2014 at 4:17 am

     I'd never had a long stay in Brownsville since 1994--a proper stay which lasted several days.  From the early 80s up to 1988 I'd resided there.  I had to think of all of the places I'd been over my time including the golden days of life in Laredo.  These days will always be referred to as 'the golden days' because the life I had at that time was the most happiest. I enoyed the work I had at the paper back then.  I seemed to have almost everything I wanted.  I'm sorry I let those days get away from me.  New York was a necessary evil, though.  I needed New York to learn the things I've come to know.  I learned every arte of magick and healing I think that is beknownst to man, from the masters of the craft; I learned how to defend myself, how to gaurd everything and everyone I hold dear.  I defeated people I should have been able to ward off long ago.

  We all must face that which will either kill us or make us stronger at some point.  I faced many, many people and circumstances in this lifetime in which I don't really fathom how I was able to overcome, I just know that I did.  

  The early years of my life were spent growing up along side the cornfields of Ohio, then the wooded backdrop of my next home there.  These were quiet years which allowed lots of time for contemplation on minuscule topics and the beginnings of communications with dreams and spirits.  Although I didn't understand any of these gifts or abilities at the time, I knew I had them.  I just didn't know why.  After all of these years, I have even more questions, and I still don't know why.  

  Out of all of my journeys, all of my homes temporary or permanent, I always come back to Brownsville.  Maybe it's because something there calls me to, had called me there to start with, or maybe it's because that's where I feel I belong, maybe the spirits trapped in that area reach out to me, I can't be certain.  Maybe it's because I learned the most important things of all when I lived there.  I dreamed of being there the entire ten years I was in New York.  I was searching for something.  I was being called by someone.  I know who it was. He wanted me back there, he'd ask me not to go, but I had to.  We both know why I had to go.  

  The un-named and forgotten of the Rio Grande called me back: Where had the white lady gone? --no longer here by the river.  The white girl who sees them--the dead and forgotten-they wanted me back home. 

  The souls of the damned who'd died and lost their identities welcomed me back, but the living were afraid of me.  I have forever known what it is to be looked at and have people feel afraid or dislike me for whatever reasons; I'm no stranger to the outter ring.  After all, I have no business being here in this lifetime; it was a quick decision, I'm sure of it, that I came into this life and missed the very soul I'd come back for. If only I'd been my grandmother's child.  But the souls I'd come to visit with welcomed me, and I crossed them over--and I'm not talking about getting them over the river on earth, but the river on the other side of the spirit world.  It was a difficult task for I had limited time and strength that day, but many had passed over and were freed.  I know the day will come when I will be called to the task again, and God himself will make it known when the next time is to come.  

  Besides some unreasonable spiritual journey, I went back to Brownsville for myself.  When I was living in New York and writing at the time, I conjured every memory I could.  It's funny how one stitch in time has its own special existence, its own essence, spark of life, if you will, which can't ever be recaptured.  Everything was so different when I visited.  More than anything, I was different.  How I perceived everything was now very different.  I knew now how I'd let people run me off, intimidate and terrorize me.  They were cowards, each and every last one of them--picking on one young girl too defenseless to help herself, using black magick, illusions and lies to do so.  I dare any of them now to come and face me.  I know they wouldn't, and even if they did, they would need a friend or two or three to come with them. 

  Going back to Brownsville was exactly like coming back to the closet at the end of the dark hall--the one you were so afraid of when you were little--only to find there were no monsters in it, only some cheap threads, a mop bucket, some rusty old hangers and a broken light switch.  That's all which was ever in there.  Werewolves are only little boys in masks who are too ashamed to show their faces and who dabble with the forces of the dead thinking the dead are going to help them.  When those little boys get to hell one day, we will be waiting for them with a dunce cap.  No real witches would ever come back and try to play God with other peoples' lives for money--only cheap gypsies engage in this.  

 I'd come back to see the sunlight and to comfort the souls of the ranchlands.  I'd come back to the dusty old closet to prove to myself once more there really wasn't anything to fear; only childhood nightmares.  

 I knew why the things had happened to me that did--I needed to stand up for myself, but I couldn't back then.  I was too afraid.  If it were me today, everyone would have been set before the courtroom.  And I do mean everyone.  I was being abused and no one should have to take that kind of abuse.  Ever.

  Bad things are meant to be forgotten, and I put it all away after some thought and rejoiced in all of the good things.  I had lived to tell it all.  People who didn't have my best interest had all been ousted.  I was free.  More than anything, I was free to experience good memories and to share memories with someone very dear to me.  I could explore myself now for who I'd become and be glad that I didn't become some stastistic or casualty for someone to laught at--now I was having the last laugh when I look at all of them and what they've done, what they've become when they tried so hard to get me.  It is a sweet victory but still bears a bitter fruit.  

  I have to say here, or this writing would not be complete, that I wish with all of my heart the spirit Melo wasn't tied to someone I greatly dislike, but he is.  And there's nothing I can do to change this, ever.  I can't imagine my life without the blue house or the ranch, the spirits or Melo, and I prefer to block out anyone bad associated with them, for this has been such a beautiful and meaningful part of my life.  It has touched my life and my heart, and those lives around me, forever and for the better.  Like most other unworldly happenings, I'm not completely certain why or how, or what all of the details behind it might be.  Along the way I have shared my life with a soul who has been by me and very slowly I've discovered who he was--out of the shadows, the lies and myths, without the aide of any human being.  I hope some day I can only write it all down. 


 I feel so blessed that I've had not a second chance, but a third chance to come back and explore not only myself, but the spirit as well, since he has become such an integral part of my soul.  Now I can truly look at things with some better sense and understanding, to see it for what it is, or was.





Tags: Sometimes a trip to the past gives us the strength we need to conquer the future.