ya_vuelvo pilot the uncanny resemblence of my former life stands before my like a placid reflection in a glass window. its cool and dark, i catch the numb shade of gray and the dark horizon behind me and i examine myself as i pass by store windows. i'm working here in houston some weeks, visiting old friends that have become family. i am examining and reliving all portions and old episodes. my father is slowly losing his mind. my little brother is loaded down by his issues. my friends question my return. i am at a difficult place. i miss you. i miss the thought of us. i look at your photos i read comments you post on facebook to other people and i know i'm no longer even in your mind. i don't feel deep sorrow or regret, i just feel as though i am young again and that i've forgotten something and there's no way i can return to get it. i cannot undo what is done, i cannot retrieve something that is not lost. we are two different people, in two very different places in our life. i know i will not come up in your mind. i know that you do not wonder how i am. i went to a friend's house today to watch the football game and i met a girl from puerto rico. she's young and energetic. we talked about mexico and traveling, adjusting to new cultures and learning new languages. i am thankful for my mexican experience. i am thankful it is not over. i am grateful for our history. returning here makes me realize how pointless life is when it comes to the game of materialism. i love my friends, and if i were to return permanently i know that more likely than not i would fall back into that way of life. but i feel refreshingly light now with my simple life, my two rooms, my small bathroom, my patio, my morning walks, my bus rides, teaching english to my students. i feel as though i can breathe and its without great worry or concern, that things work out for the best even when we don't think they will, even if its not how we expect. my friends had just remodeled their house and it looks great, the new floor, removing the atrium, the pillars, it all looked sharp. we discussed two or our other friends and their new mercedes and the wife's new boobs. its funny how superficial we are when it comes to those things here in the u.s. i feel empty here. i feel like no matter what, no matter how hard one seeks, happiness is not equivalent to what we own or wear or how big our breasts are; and i wonder why? i know you love all these american things, these things that fascinate you and entice you. i loved watching you. i would love to have you here with me, to talk with you, to make fun of people as we watch them pass in the galleria, to go shopping with you and buy you gifts. all these things that i imagine us doing or the conversations i imagine us having, i know will never happen. i remind myself there is someone else out there. there is someone else there to fill all these things. we are different. if i had my way i'd take you with me, the passport picture of you that is in my top drawer back home. i'd keep you near me always. i'd have that picture to look at when i felt i was getting too far and the sand was beginning to erode and the distance grew greater. i love you. i love you always. i cannot forget you. i would like to sleep tonight and imagine the skyline downtown all the lights. i'd like to fall asleep in the lights, because for them i always feel alive. whenever i have viewed this city at night i have felt the greatest peace at night looking at the thousands of lights and the orange mask that hovers above the horizon. i will break into them, become part of them, and feel myself filled with peace as i remember that all returns are temporary as are all spaces and times and situations. 071230 what's it to you? who go blather from