Mrs. Kimberly Ramos
The House That Gabriel Built
There is a house in Chino on G Street.
And in the backyard of that home is a house that my grandpa, Gabriel Rico, built.
This is an image of that house
He built it for his daughters with his own hands
And at the entrance marks their hands
It has an open door and everyone who goes inside is welcome
To a child, it is a vessel for limitless imagination
Inside is a school, a playhouse, a restaurant, and even a haunted mansion
It stored desks and kitchens, tricycles and sports equipment
At the beginning of every summer it would get cleared out, cleaned up, and ready for the season
My mom and her sisters played in it with their cousins
My brother and sisters and I played in it with our cousins
Our children played in it, and for some of us, our own grandchildren have played in it
It is a house that Gabriel built
He was the youngest of 13 children.
Born in 1936
I imagine he was a bit of a wild child
Full of confidence and adventure, a bit of a mischief-maker
He's been married to my Nana, for 67 years
He has 4 daughters; Betty Ann, Cindy, Denise and Gabriella, his namesake
He had a commanding presence
He walked with a cowboy swagger, and
He talked so that a request wasn't denied
and a laugh, a laugh that I can still hear and feel in my heart
My grandfather was no dummy
He listened and he watched
His hands built, they fixed, they invented
He was a collector
His mind was quick and his words were honest and true
His cheek held thousands of kisses; that said hello and goodbye, for each time we saw him
My grandfather was a man, rich with love.
Muy Rico. Rico
We have been so blessed to have had him for so long
He has been called home
And I can visualize that when he arrived, his body whole, his legs healed, he was greeted by all of his brothers and sisters
And by his parents whom I'm sure he has missed for such a long time
His first family, reunited
I will miss him, we will miss him, everyday for the rest of our lives
Until, we too, will be called home and he will greet us with open arms and his cheek for a kiss, when it is our own time
And one day, we will all meet again, reunited, in the house that God built
I ask my family to look around
We are all here because of Gabriel Rico, my grandfather
He raised us all
He loved us all, just as we all love him
We share our memories, his stories and the gifts that he gave each of us
He lives on in us and we will continue to be his story
His legacy
With love
With open doors where everyone is welcome
Because
We are the house that Gabriel built
Mrs. Miriam Trudeau
When You Wish Upon a Burp
Oh tiny, salmon-colored fuzz,
You stuck around in her hair all through karate,
For an hour!
Through the kicks and blocks and group game of dodgeball.
This makes you lucky and so Cami must make a wish.
Cami,
Poised, with pursed lips and ready to make a wish,
Softly burps instead.
It blows the lucky, salmon-colored fuzz into oblivion.
“I burped the wish away!” she exclaims.
::boisterous belly laughs ensue::
Ms. LaReina Whatley
Inner Peace
Some people laugh
Some people cry
Some worry
Some get high
But, there is no peace like inner peace
Where anxiety and frustration has ceased
Where old ways are washed anew
Where the gray skies become blue
Where the air is crisp and clean
With each breath a joyful scene
Where distress is never the master
Where anger can no longer create disaster
Inside, where I set those boundaries
I am confident in my abilities
I am free to think independently
Therefore, I won't allow myself to succumb to negativity
Mrs. Cecile Echegoyen
The Necklace
I have a necklace made of perfectly white, lustrous pearls mother bought at a market in
Hawaii. I love the coolness and weight it holds when I place it on my neck as if each
pearl contained the vastness of the ocean. Whenever I wear it, it reminds me of that
eventful trip when we hurriedly descended 20 flights of stairs with my poor
eighty-year-old mother because the hotel’s fire alarm went off.
I have a necklace of hand-made Murano glass. I thought it was too expensive for little
pieces of glass cubes and spheres. Though the company assured us it was real gold
dust inside. I like the coolness I feel on my neck and how my grandchildren are
enchanted when they hold each shape in their little hands trying to see through each
piece of glass. That one is special for it was a dream of mine to be in Venice, and I was
able to see my boy’s 14-year-old mind explore the place of his Assassin's Creed game in awe.
I have a gold necklace which holds a gold and silver engraved pastoral scene. It feels
light on my neck and Its love warms my soul. My father’s older sister, my tia, gave it to
me a few months before passing. It's one of my favorites as it was given to her as an
award for being an excellent nurse, and the scene represents a beautiful love poem
dad read to me many times.
I have a necklace made of dried, deep brown seeds. It feels light on my neck and smells
of a walk in the woods. Each seed holds the history of our earth. A student in my
multicultural club brought it from Mexico. She wanted to thank me for the pride she felt
while dancing all those beautiful rhythmic songs, and for all those vivid colors that
painted a living canvas on the stage. The necklace reminds me of long rehearsals after
school, which taught me that order, discipline, and constancy are necessary to achieve beauty.
I have many other necklaces that are worn with certain fashionable outfits. Those I
bought because they looked pretty in the store hanging over a black turtleneck sweater
or worn with a flowing tunic elegantly. Those are only special to my life-long friend,
Vanity. Since I was a child and through decades, we’ve never been able to part.
The most special necklace I have though, was not bought with money. It is a necklace
made from hugs and embraces from loved ones who are not all with me anymore.
Some were small arms and tiny hands intertwined around my neck with the entire
weight of trust upon me. Others were hugs given in supplication of forgiveness and
countered with unconditional love. Some were given as a comforting balm to ease a
burden or a heartache, as my husband gives me now that I mourn my boy. Others bring
a wish of hopeful tomorrows. They each have their own scent and weigh differently
upon my neck, but the thread holding those gemstones together is an unbreakable,
untarnishable, and priceless thread of love.
That necklace, I hold in a special jewelry box; I safeguard it deep within my heart.
Mrs. Nicolle Wilson
Declaration
When it’s time
to slip out of this skin,
don’t look for me
in that sculpted garden
of wishing wells,
where memento mori
claw from the ground
like broken,
gray fingernails,
where wind and tears
grind down the monoliths
to a smooth anonymity.
Instead,
look for me
in the bonfire,
the Chinese lantern,
or best:
in the hymn
of promise
and redemption
that is a breeze,
a whisper,
a breath
of the now
exhaled
into eternity.