Claudia Rodriguez

My legs so hairy. Long and wiry my hair. Before I used Nair, used a blade to my fuzz, I fought for my hair. This chica in my middle school- she had hair long as a mane. Yoli se llamaba, she didn’t like me and she liked my hairiness even less. Don’t know what or how my hairy mess messed with her. Fuzzy upper lip, already mentioned her mane and arms just as furry as mine but she was lighter so hers looked thick like espinas de nopal. Hair a thorn on her side and she took it out on my on me on mine- hair. So fine and light, airy almost never bothered me until she started airing my business drawing attention to my… getting attention from my… feeling better at my- expensive, she cost me a lot of time and frustration. Nervousness during P.E. cause I knew she’d see me in my green with gold trimmed school shorts and launch her words that crawled up my spine like an army of ants me trying to resist not to itch.

Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace, is the masochists way to know that the burning the blood busted cells and pus drying hard, crunchy on skin is taking it as Jesus did. Taking this sinful world as it is. Not as I would have it never as I would have it but about how you give it make me take it. Blindly trusting that You will  make all things right, the space, my head my throbbing wounds  markers  of my   surrender to Your will,  knees a popping mess  on the concrete.  Concrete proof of doing anything just so that I may be reasonably happy in this life. But it's the next one that matters, next time, next opportunity next night, next breath as long I have the next opportunity to be supremely happy with You forever in the NEXT. Amen.