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Isabel Alvear

My dad was a study in anger. His mood could manipulate the people around him. That’s the power of charisma for good or evil. When at his most charming, people fell around him like dominos—his easy chatter, gregariousness, affability and generosity had him winning at almost every game. He maintained his Spanish accent that under social situations, was like standing under an umbrella of warming jasmine in the night: exotic, romantic, lingering and intriguing. All fuel for the n

Disappointment. Comes from assumed behaviors and expectations of another. Comes from customs and values inferred upon others without the benefit of the same upbringing. Maybe, little boy, you were raised without a father or a mother. Did you have siblings? A sister? A brother? Other family living near? Maybe, you little man, were raised to fight to win. Protector. Defender. Maybe, you little warrior, were raised that caring, kindness, nurturing or generosity will come eventua

Inside the park, dirt churning The sandy soil moistly warming The earth readying, fortifying Nurturing, gathering power Pushing up daffodils and lilies Deep inhale, the smells of spring Heat gathering as nature’s strength Returns to give life, permeates All through Jackie Robinson park The dogs following her vigor Gather scents feverishly, salivating Zig-zagging, nuzzling the earth Oft times like forensic scientists Dogs are like the original CSI’s Of the huma

A Short Story I’m at a point where I’m getting closer to understanding why it’s hard to replicate my abuelita’s spinach and potato soup. I’ve tried five different potatoes. Three different sizes. I’ve played with mostly potato and some yucca. I’ve tried sautéing the spinach in garlic first; adding it last, right before serving. That’s been the closest. Also, the onion counts. Yellow over white or red. The funny thing about memories, like when I was standing on my tip-toes in

A beautifully large, rambling house Silly children spilling out of rooms Screaming, playing, laughing Spending the seasons with los primos. Secrets, whispers, and giggle-fits Dozing mostly into morning light Malibu Barbie and VHS under the tree Christmas pancakes as the snow flaked. Scary storms whipping in springtime The ancient tree knocking windows Toys bobbing from basement floods Rubber botas stuck dry in the front lawn. Screaming laughter, endless chases Fishi

I guess I just have to do Something Hey, HEY To get noticed Up/down Spinning/around Hey now. Hey there Don’t be feeling Your feelings… Your quota is filled Hey now. Hey, see me yet? Gears gathering Fears furthering Dreams dithering No más para usted, bebé For two thousand, seventeen This year no hay más espacio No seeing and no feeling Not to rent, borrow or steal Buena suerte, mi gentes Jump away all day Up/Down/Around #Culture #spirituality #recovery #m