We Call Him Gary

May 5, 2014

This moment in our lives was written a year ago, in the year 2013. It is so befitting for this-one year later-to start off these series of notes. Daddy calls them written memories...We call them tales of our world....you get the point. Enjoy

June 23, 2013

 Our story is filled with many people that have shaped our lives, from young to old, male or female.  This was due to the frequent times we had to move, since the last day we saw our mother. So far, it's a total of  thirty-five people to this date, that we have lived with. I know it seems like a lot. That's what Daddy told us. We don't think it's that many. Then again, we don't remember most of them either. Daddy does. He's our memory bank. He remembers things we had no idea we did. So, out of the thirty-five-Daddy told us about-eight of them watched us, as to allow Daddy, to go to work everyday and only a few truly became family. Take it from the Perez Family, we know a little something about meeting new people. A new addition isn't always easy. New faces to recognize, personalities to adjust to, attitudes to relate to, mannerisms to identify and all the while, brand new information to automatically process and project. The most recent-of those to influence our lives-is a man, who is referred to by my Daddy as, "a Godsend". I asked Daddy what that meant, he said

"There are events that occur in our lives, which cross our paths with people who will alter that life for the better or worse... a powerful connection, an enemy, a friendly aquatint or just a helping hand. It happens everyday, but every once in awhile, there is a person or persons, who show up, without pretense or warning, a clue or a sign, not an inclination of there being, to manifest an event that will inevitably be....

Exactly what you need, right when you need it.

Passing the point, of those simple, yet at the time, impossible to acquire needs, and gaining ever so close to what, you would also truly desire. That is when you look into the heavens, the earth. Look into yourself and know,....
This is something greater than you and I here. This is a welcomed confusion, an unparalleled requisite, a fundamental revision......
This. Is. A Godsend.
I am truly grateful and utterly speechless to receive such a gift from a total stranger and the fact that he follows and even agrees on how I raise you girls is the icing on the cake. Does that help explain the definition of "A Godsend"?

Heavy, elaborate, overwhelming response as usual.. Thank you for the explanation Daddy...I know you said something about Cake..and a Godsend..all we know is, we call him Gary.

Gary Turzilli is an older, Italian man, early 60's, slightly gray hair, a smile and a pair of glasses on his hairless face. He is like a grandpa; but chooses to be called by his name. He says, he wants to show us, there are people in the world who aren't related and will still lend a helping hand. He would not like to be considered as anything, but a friend. He is the man we are staying with after Brenda locked us out of her RV last month.  He's shorter than Daddy and loves to cook and sing like Daddy, and yes even at the same time. He owns a dog named Ginger, she's the best. She's an Australian cattle hound. Daddy keeps calling her "a dingo" along with the phrase, in a very peculiar, high pitched voice, "maybe, the ding ate your baby". I can tell Daddy loves her by the way he play fights with her and the fact that she sleeps at the foot of his bed-sometimes half the bed. He says "She is not a dog, she is a person." I respond with "No she's not, she's a dog". Covering her ears, he says again, "she's a person, Maritza. You're going to hurt her feelings". Alyssia calls her Gingy(jin-jee). Playing around with her, we stick our hands in her mouth and she knows exactly how much pressure before she can hurt our small, delicate, little hands with her bite. Daddy thinks it's amazing, he says the same about Gary's cooking. Gary says he was a Caterer, back in New York-where Daddy grew up. We believe him.  This man has prepared and cooked all our meals since we moved into his RV-seven weeks ago. Of all the places we have lived, I would have to say Gary's is the only place where Daddy isn't cooking. I haven't seen one of Daddy's signature dishes since we left Aunt Dawn's house. Where are my pastellios, Daddy? Not even a pot of rice? He says soon, we'll see.

Speaking of all this food, I can't wait for brunch at Chaetae AlyMar. Mmmmm.
Have you ever had a crepe? We had them for the first time, when Gary made them for us. They're pretty good, like really thin pancakes he makes from scratch-like his waffles, pancakes, and just about everything he cooks. He also introduced us to a dish, he calls "egg in the hole". Those who have had it, know what I mean. Those who don't....will. The reason I say this, is the restaurant he made in our name serves it, called Chaetae Alymar. It's gonna be big! Every weekend, for the past two weeks, our mornings have been filled with, bananas, blueberries and strawberries. Omelets, bacon and a warm smile, serving brunch in the Florida breeze. Come by....maybe Saturday,  we'll have an egg filled slice of toasted bread, with watermelon on the side Waiting for you.
 
Thank you Gary for all your doing for us and our Daddy. Your the best!

And The Beat Goes On

April 14, 2013

 I had to get Daddy up this morning, like any other morning. I knew for a fact he was awake, I heard his voice as he shushed me, only a little while ago. I said his name nice and loud like I was taught. I can hear him now "Speak up Maritza, so people can hear you!" This was not the case. For some reason loud, is inappropriate, that early in the day. Despite what Daddy would say, we can honestly say "we have trained him well enough-for him to know, If the sun is awake; so are we." There is light shining on everything for us to see. How can you do that, if you don't get up?

"DADDY'" Can I have something to eat."

He turns his head and faced me "Did you use the bathroom this morning?"

"OH!".. Trying to hurry(something Daddy reminds me not to do)..I moved swiftly through the RV that was in it's "bedtime mode"-the couch and the booth style dining area turn into beds-ran to the bathroom back to the bed and pulled close to an already awaken Daddy and said in the sweetest way I possibly could

"Daddy? I'm hungry..."

"GOOD MORNING, MARITZA."

"Good morning, Daddy....I'm hungry.."

Can you wait just a minute? You just woke up."I wasn't thinking about how long it's been since I woke up. I was thinking about how hungry I was as I said again with an elongated first syllable,
 "But, I'm hun-gry".

 "I know. That's why you asked for something to eat."

"Why do you always say that?"
 
"I say it, because I know your hungry, you just woke up"

 "Can I have some cereal?..." 

"Sure, Maritza."

"Can I have it right now?"

"Can you give me a minute?"

"Yes, Daddy..........How long is a minute?"

"Sixty seconds."

"How long is that?"

"One tick on the clock."

"How long is that?"

"A second"

"Why?"

"Alright Maritza, alright. I'm up, and look, Alyssia's up too. Good morning, baby"

"Good morning, Daddy....excuse me? Daddy?"

"Yes, Alyssia"

"Can I have something to eat?"

"You just woke up. Did you even go to the bathroom?

"Oh!" as Alyssia ran off, I looked at Daddy and said "Has it been a minute yet?

"Yes, Maritza it has, help me set the couch up"

"Can I have Cereal?"

"Didn't I answer that question, for you,  already?"

"Yes, but I really want some cereal"

"I know you do!"

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

-just then Alyssia walks out-the same time Daddy reaches for the honey Kix- and says, "excuse me Daddy?.."

Grabbing our bowls now "Yes, Alyssia?"

"Can I have some cereal?......"

Forget Me Nots

"Don't forget", with his finger waving too and fro. "Don't you ever forget". At this point, in any conversation with Daddy, I have to ask-even when I think I know the answer- "Why, Daddy?" He loves it when I ask why, he says it keeps him sharp and on his toes. Daddy pauses. He gave me that look. The one that says "I have used my brain to construct the best suitable explanation of your questioning, are you ready"
I returned a look that said "attention span countdown in t-minus 20 seconds, are you done?". He laughed as if he knew what I was thinking and said,

 

"You should never forget, what you've experienced, what you have learned and what you have been through. This is the center of our existence, our memory. We use it as a time machine, take a trip to a period in our lives when life was wonderful, or, horrible. We can relive any sensation we have already experienced, smell the ocean, feel the warmth of the first rays of the morning sun on our face, hear the early birds chirping, see the smile of someone you love and remember the kindness of a stranger you met with more love than any family member. We can also go back in the data banks of our minds and relive the horrific moment of torture and ridicule, the inexcusable actions of another human being, the bad choices we might have made and the regret we carry, which eats at us from the inside. Don't forget, we use our memory for simple tasks, like numbers and addresses, names and faces, individuals and their personalities-their wants and desires, likes and dislikes. We can use memory as a tool or as a weapon. As a tool, it can be used to teach us, to mold us and shape us. It is this weight or stone-this massive, immovable, definitive object, in which we can still alter. 

This symbol is the bases of which our character, personality and identity are derived from. As a weapon it can be used as a torture device .A knife pressing against the throat. A weight that can only be carried on your back, gradually becoming heavier, until you are crushed beneath the weight of your own recollection. The strength of memory can bring down the strongest woman, the mightiest warrior or the bravest man. The thought of fear is enough to shake anyone to the core.

 So easily do we find ourselves surrounded by the experiences that should of taught us how to treat people. Instead, we use those experiences to defend ourselves out of fear of being hurt-in any shape or form-again. There could be a memory of misfortune which sparks a distaste towards poverty. A memory of having nothing to eat, sleeping on the floor and only taking one bath a week, which gives you an appreciation of wealth(no matter the size). A moment where you where bed stricken for months and gives you a new found appreciation of fully functional limbs or better yet, being healthy. A memory can alter your perception of any given situation-not because of the action-because of the feelings you have towards it. Understand, people you talk do not know what you are feeling as you voice your thoughts. They do not know how to deal with your feelings. They can only act on the words that they hear and the actions you exhibit. To believe that someone on the outside, can fully understand what you are going through-and vice verse-without being told is absurd and selfish. How can we expect someone to know our personal and individual memories? How could we force our "view" on to a being with memories of their own? How wonderful our memories can be and at the same time how destructive they can become.

 That's why, I will always remind you to never forget. Memory can be used to motivate the masses, persuade a nation or manipulate a single individual.  It can be our handicap, our burden or our greatest source of strength. Those without memory have the luxury and disadvantage of living each day as if it were new. Rediscovering the already explored. Never adding on to what has been learned or passing it on to an offspring. Then again, they can stroll through life without the persuasion of horrible memories and life altering situations and can come to a conclusion, unbiased. Should it be envied or should we empathize the naivety? Who we are and what drives us is fueled by our memories. We create our own reality based on memories. We as human beings were not taught the value of this(you will be). We take it for granted and let memories manipulate our actions towards our self and others. You must never forget... To forget, is to dismiss the knowledge of  years of trials and errors. To forget how it feels or how it makes others feel is an ignorant refuge. Be aware of your past and hold on to the memories. The promise I give to you from Father to daughter is this; I will not forget what it is like without you and what it took to keep my two, pretty little girls in my life. I will not forget the countless homes we had to stay at, to avoid living in the streets, the feeling of helplessness when I knew I had the power to do anything. I will not forget the envy and fear that fill the heads of the inhabitants of this world. I will not forget those who have helped us on our journey and I will not forget to teach you all about it now, so it will stay with you forever to brighten the path that you will walk, later in life. Does that answer your question, Maritza?"

"Yes.....but why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this for us, because you love us?"

With a chuckle Daddy said "Yes, Maritza I do it because I love you. I also do it because-"

"Daddy?"

"Yes?" 

"That answer is good enough for me. I love you too, Daddy"

 

This Is Only The Beginning

March 21, 2013
 

 Sitting alone. Midnight passes, one o'clock rolls around with a quiet whisper. The loudest noise in the room can only be heard....,if you stop and think about it. Two pretty, little angels, sleeping five feet away. Clueless to the future that lie ahead of them. For words to describe it, you would have to catch a lightning bolt in a jar, scratch a caterpillar's knuckles, kiss the man in the moon and hug the sun. The frustration they will encounter will only be equal to the intrigue they will create.

Comments brought to light; become the light. Reinforced, consistently, day to day, night to night, awake or asleep. The belief of God, judgement day and the afterlife, replaced with the belief of empowerment, consciousness, and awareness.  Ignorance, being clueless or oblivious, defected with knowledge, information and wisdom. The ability to create your own reality, untaught to the masses. Explained to deaf ears and busy minds. Embeded in my girls.More trouble than what its worth? Could you put a value on growing up with wisdom instead of orders? Is there value in growing up, being raised to know, what you are eating is not just a yummy treat to reward yourself, or a crutch to hold your heavy and misguided body, but medicine. The earth we live on supplies us with all the medicinal  plants, fruits, and vegetables we can grow.

 

 When this. Obvious lesson is taught to fresh new minds, the metamorphosis become an identity not just an idea. A thought becomes a seed. The seed grows into structure of intimidation. Roots reaching into the core of the earth. A trunk so powerfull, no force on earth can move it, leaves of green, shading and giving comfort to anyone who needs or desires it and branches like arms reaching for the light, which eventually and expectedly bear fruit.

 

 Mimic, Copy, imitate.....learn. Children see children do. Examples are all a child needs. Build it and they will come. To thwart the bombardment of products and commercials, perceived as propaganda. Two precious lives, a year and a half apart, living under the rule of a man who is awake, aware. Where the greatest dilemma is functioning in an undesirable lifestyle of the modern day slave. Possessing the capabilities to co-exist within a society, riddled in submission. So to not disrupt the "unnatural" order of things. The delicate fabric can not sustain the knowledge of lies disguised as truths and truths disguised as lies. It only takes one truth to collapse a mountain of lies. Knowing that is the only way to understand how to be understood. The relentless   arguments, depression, suicide, accomplishment, material adrenaline rush, satisfaction,  politics, sports and religion keep us warm as the temperature rises without question. so goes the tale of the boiling frog.

 TO BE CONTINUED....

God Told Me To Give You This

March 2, 2013

 The morning started abruptly at 6AM with tears and blood. Poor Alyssia, the dry heat from the Quality Inn, in St. Augustine, Florida was the culprit this time-taking into consideration, Alyssia's nose usually bleeds in dry conditions. After the blood subsided and the tears turned into a smile, it was time to check on our "driving house", which by the way, is at Campers World, one mile away from the hotel for repairs. I left the hotel at seven forty-five and started this morning walk. I gazed ahead pass the palm trees that lined Outlet Mall Blvd, as I sipped my coffee, listening to my Dubstep station, on Pandora one, via my Galaxy lll, to find out it was a shorter walk in my head than on foot. Nonetheless, I arrived, discussed and departed. I even managed to get a ride back to the hotel. This wasn't the first time a business offered such a service. I wonder now if this form of hospitality is also given to patrons in Maryland? I never really asked. I got back to the hotel around nine-thirty....only an hour and a half until check-out. After telling Brenda "they might not have a chance to look at it until Monday" I searched the web for an inexpensive hotel. I found through Hotels.com, a great price, of one hundred and nine dollars for two nights, just a few blocks away-across the I95. We packed all our things including a rectangle tub of food we removed from the refrigerator. No power, No refrigerator. I made sure my girls had their sweaters on (a cold front passing was passing through northern Florida) and hit the road. I had a laptop bag containing our "windows to the world" on my back, the tub of food carried in front and Alyssia holding the strap from the backpack. Shane dragged a suitcase on wheels, filled with cloths behind him and a black tote of bathroom, kitchen and children supplies. His mother, Brenda had Maritza by her side, a bag over her shoulder, two blankets and two pillows in her arms. I don't think I've ever seen someone bring pillows and blankets to a hotel, but that's cool. The super8 wasn't far. Walking with a three and a four year old did make it much, much farther.

 

 There is something I have to confess about one of my character defects. When I start to notice events not coinciding with the holographic schematics, my mind has created, I start to become aggressive and insensitive to how others might be feeling and going through at that moment-and it hurts me to say-even towards my daughters. My mind focuses on the equation at hand, analyzes the best route to take. To insure the best "broken down to it's purest form" solution. What I tell myself to ease the pain or to justify the logic on my condition is, work now play later. Take care of your responsibilities, before you enjoy your luxuries. Sometimes I feel the guilt of my girls crying because Daddy's being mean, but through it all-no matter what-my girls love their Daddy and they know-not just hear-that I love them back.

 

We began our walk with a pep in our step and no intentions of stopping. That was until I started to feel my blood pressure rise as my fingers burned, carrying the weight of perishables. Alyssia unable to hold on to my book bag strap didn't help the situation. I started to project my frustration towards her, before realizing what I was doing. Brenda asked if I would like her to carry Alyssia on her shoulders to make it easier. I refused. "What a strong women Brenda is", All the things she was carrying and she still offered. Amazing. I said "no, that's alright, I've got her." I was wrong; about a 1/4 mile into our walk, the pain was unbearable-I couldn't take it anymore. I had to place what I was carrying on the ground, stand still-now holding Alyssia's hand-take a deep breath and try to lower my blood pressure. Brenda, Maritza and Shane were about fifteen feet ahead of us.....when an older gentleman, with white hair, standing about five feet tall, walked towards me and Alyssia. I was raised in Brooklyn, N.Y., so I still haven't gotten used to the hospitality of south. I looked at the man, trying to contemplate his motives, when he waved his hand towards himself and said "come here". I gripped Alyssias hand tighter as I thought "What the hell" and started to approach him.

"Hi" he said. I responded politely with "How you doin?".

"You don't see too many people walking around here"

"We're just walking to the Super8 hotel down the road across the I95"

"Do you need a place to stay?"

"No thank you sir, our RV is at Campers World, about a mile down the road, it won't be ready until tomorrow, so were staying at the hotel for the night"

"Do you need any help" I looked at him, smiled and the first thing to come to my mind was, "would he be able to help me carry this bin of food....I chuckled inside my head and asked him if he could give us a ride.

"Sure" he said "if I have the room". He turned to walk to his small blue pick-up truck. I lifted the bin and told Alyssia to stay close to me-she did. I looked at the pick-up and said, "I think we can all fit". I called Brenda, Shane and Maritza over, and told them we were getting a ride. Smiles lit up their faces. We packed the back of the blue pick-up with everything we were carrying including Shane and myself. Brenda, Maritza and Alyssia sat inside the front of the vehicle. During the short ride to the hotel, I discussed with Shane, how odd I thought it was for a stranger to ask us if we needed a place to stay. He said "nothing like Southern hospitality". I agreed. After five minutes of driving we reached our destination. We jumped out the back, unloaded our things. Before lifting my pile to carry inside, I put my hand out and asked the gentleman for his name.

"My name is  Joe".

"My name is Antonio. Thank you so much, for the ride."

"It was nothing.

 I picked up the bin and started to carry it to the hotel entrance when Joe and I made eye contact one last time. He smiled, made a gesture to place something in my left hand(which was full at the time) and said something that would stick with me forever.

 He said "God told me to give this to you".


"Thank you Joe."

 I humbly excepting it. He would be insulted if I refused. We all waved good-bye, and thanked Joe again and walked to the hotels front door. We found out check-in time wasn't until two-it was almost twelve-but the clerk would help to rush the process. It seems everyone goes that extra mile when you have children with you or maybe they're just generally nice. I have learned a lot about people, places and also myself. Not everyone is out to get you. Does it really all depend on where you're at? Lost in my thoughts, I forgot I was holding on to Joe's offering. I looked at my left hand and to my surprise and astonishment, Joe had given us, four fifty dollar bills. I couldn't believe it. I looked around as if to thank him again, knowing full well he was long gone. To the white haired fellow named Joe, who taught me "strangers are only strangers, until you say hello",

Thank you.....Wherever you are.


 

 

 

 

 

 

Knock-Knock, It's The Mental Institution

January 24, 2013

Hi! Maritza again. Just wanted to state that, this is written documentation that my Daddy needs a full brain scan. I'm talking about hugging himself all day while surrounded by pillows and the men in white. What made me come to this conclusion? Listen to this. Daddy says keep a foot on both sides of the fence? Why? Where is it and how big is this fence. Is he serious?
So I had to ask Daddy. With a smile(as usual when I ask him to explain something for me) he leads with,

"It's about being opened minded. You have to keep a foot on both sides of the fence. You must know both sides of any situation. Don't knock someone until you put yourself in their shoes. Think like a person without luxuries, and a person with more than enough. Think like a person who can walk, and one who can't. Think like a person who is homeless, and one who is not. A person who can see and one who can't. Put yourself in any particular position, then you can grow to appreciate what you have."

I have tried it and it just, makes me sad.

Daddy continues, "It would help to experience loss and pain, to empathize.....but we'll try to avoid it. Even though it's sad to say, it's a part of our life, our classroom, our teacher. I believe, It would be just as effective to-basically-imagine what it would be like. Break it down to it's purist form. Then the question I ask is, could you handle it? Would you be as strong as you are now? The brain is an incredible thing, Maritza. Never take it for granted. I know I have told you before, to "never say never", but this is the exception.

Never take for granted your five senses, your ability to walk, run, stand, jump, grasp, or stand, the joy of seeing the sunrise; feeling the warmth on your face, the serenity of the sun setting, to cue the calming of night, the walks along the beach, hearing the birds sing in the morning, inhaling the essence of breakfast in your house the moment you wake up. These, and many more are my perks of life. I will share them with you, so you will cherish the capability to hug, talk and listen to someone, laugh, cry and learn from someone, build, grow and prosper all on your own.
It gives your soul depth to consider other people, their situations and how they feel. It breaks that barrier(the fence), the blindness, so you are able to stand on both sides of the fence and see things for what they are, appreciate what ever it is you have! To understand, you must be open minded"

Open minded? Does that make any sense? Wearing other peoples shoes? I just don't get it. Why would anyone stand on both sides of the fence, when it's perfectly fine and acceptable to stand on one side. And when did he break the fence? Will he get in trouble for it? Where is this fence he speaks so highly of? Can I see it? Come on Daddy! I gathered my thoughts and confronted Daddy one more time about the fence and he said

"It's not a real fence, Maritza. It is the fence or wall put up, to block our vision of what is outside our lives."

So, now the fence doesn't exist? How can I believe what you say, when you keep changing the story around. I didn't get my answer; just then-ding dong-the door bell rang. Daddy went to see who was at the door. I glanced at the door. Daddy was blocking what looked like three men. One with a black clipboard tucked under the arm of his designer suit and tie. The other two men were bigger than Daddy, but not as tall. They wore white hospital scrubs and a mean look. I was scared; Daddy wasn't. He spoke to the men as if he knew them; he didn't. Daddy looked confused.

"Someone called the doctor and told them I was mentally insane. Did you call?", he laughed.

"No Daddy. I don't know how to use a phone"

"I was joking Maritza"

So was I.
 

To be continued......

I Don't Remember You, Do You Remember Me?

Hi remember me?
                    I am the youngest of your four children. I was the infant, who didn't have a care in the world. I was the little baby with the dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, just like Daddy. The first day of life given to me, was at Franklin Square Hospital. A hospital, Daddy said "was the better choice between the hospitals", Maritza and I were born in. When I was born I looked angry at the world because of the crinkle in my brow. Daddy calls it "My pretty girl, with the mean look. Born on Friday the thirteenth"-Whatever that means.  He told me when the doctor(a little old lady) cut the umbilical cord, it caused blood to squirt across the room, splatter on the floor, and desecrate a privacy curtain. She asked the nurses around her to "get something to mop this up". I've seen pictures of the curtain.; Daddy making funny faces in them, Do you remember? Daddy laughs when he talks about it. I asked him why? He says "It's a funny coincidence. Blood everywhere, superstitious date, horror movie, and the fact that I have pictures to prove it" A hearty laugh, along with "We will both have a good chuckle, when you're older" followed.

 I am older since we last saw each other. I was using a sippy cup and diapers. I was too small to think about using the potty, let alone by myself. I couldn't dress myself, feed myself, or talk. I was an infant, a baby. I am a big girl now, despite not remembering if I was walking when we last saw each other, or how many words I could say.  What I can tell you is what any three year old could tell you. I am potty trained, know most of my colors, the whole alphabet, and day by day, Daddy works with me to help improve my pronunciation and enunciation skills. I have a wonderful life.  Daddy is my guide and Maritza is my partner.  Even though she speaks for me, bosses me around, and takes up the spotlight, I am so happy to have her in my life. I could ask her anything, and if she doesn't know, I could ask Daddy, he seems to know everything about me and Maritza.  He keeps perfect records and accounts of our lives. He is a man of many words and even more lessons, but I guess you knew that. Daddy told me my first word was "Daddy". I smile when I think of it.

 Daddy doesn't speak much of you, only when Maritza asks. I did overhear, Daddy tell Maritza you were at work and you loved us with all your heart. I know must; every mommy loves their children. Maritza also says, we have two other sisters; Jazmine and India,and your name is Chrissie. The only reason I know this is, whenever someone mentions their mommy, Maritza yells out "my mommy's name is Chrissie!" I don't say a word based on lack of physical evidence. My eyes do have a tendency of seeking out Daddy when such a comment presents itself. My Daddy is my Mommy & my Daddy. I know he will always be there for me. He is confident with his words of discipline and logic. He has a respect for us that demands an echo, which request only the best from us. Daddy has been with me every step of the way in my adventures of becoming a big girl. He held my hand when all I wanted was a sippy cup, and all I kept getting were open top cups(Daddy calls them big girl cups). Daddy walked with me down the unfamiliar path to the potty. Where(I found out through my own observation)every big girl goes when they need to relieve themselves.

In hopes to break us of our pull-ups, Daddy has carried me and Maritza to the potty(separately) every night for the past two weeks. A few accidents, nothing major. Daddy says "accidents happen; it's nothing to be ashamed of". The joy that overcomes us when we wake up dry, is only matched by the feeling of wearing big girl panties all through the night. Don't get me wrong I loved the princess pull-up prints, but it's time to grow up and put(like Daddy says) "my big girl draws on". I don't mind, because my panties have Dora, princess, penguins and flower prints on them. So, I'm adjusting nicely. Thank you Daddy. He says his knowledge is the water poured on his blossoming roses(that's us) for them to grow. I can go on and on about my Daddy; he's all I've known these past years. He has been around for every birthday, every achievement, every bruise and scrape, every tear filled eye, every scary nightmare, and every sweet dream. He has been there to catch me as I fall, guide me as I wander, motivate me when I fall behind, reprimand me when I get out of line, and love me when love is all I need.

 The reason for this letter is because Maritza wrote one and I don't want to be left out. I see every child around my age with their mommy. I recognize the way they look at her. I see the same glare, watching Maritza stare at Daddy that way. What is that feeling? Why doesn't it bother me? Why don't I care?...Daddy says "you're to young to understand and to young to concern yourself with such trivial question." I looked at him with a sense of security, dependency and trust, every child feels towards their caretaker. I know Daddy is my life and my foundation. We have met and known many people who have come into our lives. Some nice and some not-so-nice. It's hard to recall their names at times; but I will never forget who truly loves me. My life is filled with wonder and amazement. So, you can't blame me for forgetting the absent and unimportant.  I only remember what's important in my life, and with I say "I don't remember you, do you remember me?"