thalia-vargas

[thalia-vargas]

recently i’ve been starting my mornings with a bite of rich bitter dark chocolate + sea salt, and almonds. pure indulgence.

[thalia-vargas]

life lately

[thalia-vargas]

It's been twenty-nine days since my life crumbled like sand beneath my feet, making it twenty-nine whole days since I've been lying to myself.

I left Los Angeles that very same night without so much as a goodbye; not to any friend I made there or to any employer kind enough to hire me. It's a very poor way to thank their generosity, I know, but I simply couldn't stay in the city for much longer. Not with so much pain, shame and regret bottled up inside. I wanted so badly for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

But as I stood in front of the ticket counter at LAX, I was stomped as to where to go.

Los Angeles was meant to be my new home — a sprawling city bursting with people, cultures, and opportunities. A place where I could make lifelong friends and maybe even find my soulmate or something. Fall in love. Make a family. Grow old in a house I built with my own hard-earned money. And be surrounded by my children and grandchildren, all eager to hear about the crazy adventures that led me here. That had been the dream. But not anymore.

I don't know how long I must've spaced out in front of the ticket counter, but I do recall the woman commending me for a fully stamped passport. She was impressed with how many places I've visited in the short span of three years. But to me, I see it as nothing more than failed attempts to find 'home'.

I remember smiling though, if a twitch of the lip could even be considered a 'smile'. But I didn't want to seem arrogant just because I'd been to so many places. I certainly didn't travel with luxury. I worked my ass off for every ticket and every mile.

Eventually, I just became too tired. So, before it even hit me, I had asked her for a one-way ticket to the only place that's ever come close to being my home: my grandmother's hometown in Cartagena.

It's been twenty-nine days since that flight, and twenty-nine restless nights of sleeping in the same room I grew up in. It's not bad, really. Not bad at all. It just didn't feel the same without my grandmother. Too quiet for my taste. Still, every day I force myself up to clean the house I'd abandoned.

I broke down in tears the first day. And the second day. And the third. I didn't know what I was doing or what I wanted to do in the future. But I tackled what I could, when I could. At the very least, I didn't want to welcome the new year with dust and cobwebs in every corner. Since then, I've kept the same pace; slow but steady, focusing on moving forward, even if it meant taking only one step at a time. I pushed when I could, cried when I needed to and rested when my body called for it. A month's worth of hard, quiet work was really a testament to what a great motivator grief can be.

Do I still miss him? Yeah. I'd be a liar if I denied it. But I try not to think about that anymore. Or at the very least, I've bought a potted plant for every single time I've wanted to text him 'just to say hello'. Anything to distract myself. Now, they line my kitchen windowsill, bringing life into my grandmother's modest home.

But tomorrow, tomorrow they go on the ground. They deserve all the sun, and rain, and room needed to grow as freely as they'd like. And hopefully, by the time I open my grandmother's old lodging, they'd be bearing flowers, too.

[thalia-vargas]

"That's complete and utter bullshit."

Then twelve years old, Thalia stared at her grandmother, Carmel. The older woman was busy making dinner one evening when her granddaughter's question prompted a whole side of Carmel Thalia had never seen before. In all her life, this was the very first time she'd ever heard her grandmother swear. In front of her, no less. Thinking she'd imagined it, Thalia blinked.

"What??"

"I said," Carmel repeated without hesitation, mixing ingredients in a pot, "that it's complete and utter bullshit." She paused to momentarily turn from her cooking, chuckling at the sight of seeing how flabbergasted her granddaughter looked. "What? It is!"

Ten minutes before, Thalia had come home from school inquiring about something she'd learned — Murphy's Law, to which Carmel unapologetically claimed to be 'complete and utter bullshit'.

"How can you say that??"

"Oh, come on, Tia," Carmel sighed. "How can you believe that 'anything that goes wrong will go wrong'?? The one thing that's absolute in the world, and in life, is change. And if there's change, there's always a potential for things to go one way or another."

"So?"

"So, Murphy's Law is bullshit because it's all relative," Carmel explained. Turning the stove off, she wiped her hands on her apron and sat beside young Thalia. "The future is no absolute. Good things and bad things can and will happen, simultaneously. It is our thoughts and attitude towards life that changes how the outcome affects us."

**

"You're wrong!"

Thalia screamed into the abyss as soon as she reached the shore of her favourite beach. It was a short drive outside of Los Angeles, a miraculous find if there ever was any. Though nothing quite like the beaches in Colombia, at least it was quiet and very rarely visited, making it a perfect getaway for anyone wanting to escape reality for a little while.

"Everything that can go wrong went wrong!" Thalia cried. "No matter how I tried to fix things! It just blew up in my face!" Fresh, angry tears freely rolled down her face. "How could you lie to me, abuela?!" She yelled in agony before finally breaking down into a heap on the sand. "How could you leave me..."

Wrapping her arms tightly around her legs, Thalia sobbed. She wanted nothing more than to forget everything and everyone. And yet, as if to mock her, all she could do was replay every conversation she's had with Forrest since she'd ended things with him. Through texts, it was clear that everything was getting lost in translation, so she figured that perhaps it would be better to speak in person, but only after the holidays are over as to not inconvenience him further. Thalia was surprised when Forrest agreed wholeheartedly, even suggesting to her that he fly out that very same day. Thalia had hoped this eagerness was a sign. A good sign. But whoever Murphy was, was right. Anything that can go wrong did go wrong.

From the moment he arrived in LA, there was tension there. Thalia could still remember the sting of how bluntly he'd talk to her; it was a stark contrast to the sweet, caring Forrest she had grown to know. Thalia squeezed her eyes shut remembering the way she finally blew up at him, unable to endure his rudeness any longer. But nothing settled after that. Instead, the vicious cycle of both sides wanting to be heard, and yet not being heard continued until Thalia — despite her desire to stay and mend what had been broken — decided it best to walk away before either of them said anything they'd regret.

Thalia tightened her embrace around her legs, feeling the harsh chill of the ocean breeze. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, she came to realise that it was Forrest's she was wearing.

Quiet tears cascaded downwards, but not of anger anymore. Stripped of it, Thalia realised that this hoodie was probably the last she'll ever have of him, and the thought broke her into a million more pieces. She could've had it all, she thought, if only she didn't mind sharing. But then, would it have really been 'all'?

Thalia sighed, exhausted and defeated. She was tired of chasing the idea of home and family when the one family she ever knew had left her, too. Maybe Forrest has the right idea after all. Maybe the key is to never depend on anyone else but yourself. Maybe that's the only way to keep things from going wrong.

* All conversations are in Spanish.

[thalia-vargas]

[thalia-vargas]

It's been four days since I've moved in, but I've not unpacked a single box. For the life of me, I can't figure out why.

A week ago, Forrest had offered his home to me. He said that if I lived here, I could save more money than I spend because he wouldn't be charging me anything, and that I'll be giving life to an otherwise empty LA home. But most importantly, it'll be a way for us to be closer, so that every time he's in town, we wouldn't be wasting precious time figuring out whose place to stay in.

It's most generous, really. He's been most generous. But after one night here, I'm not sure I can stay.

I mean, his apartment is nice. Really nice. It's no castle, but it's way better than anything I can afford on my own. Besides, I've never needed a castle. But to live here for free? I offered to pay for something, anything, because I would feel like I'd be taking advantage of his generosity if I didn't. He was adamant I didn't need to. Eventually, he conceded and agreed that I can pay for the utilities I use, but nothing more.

This arrangement, however, had not helped quell my shame. Days later, these four walls still don't feel like home. Even as I sit here, by his bed, wearing the very sweatshirt he gave me, just staring at my pathetic attempt to make things cosy — a fresh new plant I'd bought from the nursery downtown. None of it helps. At least, not really. The silence is too loud, and I don't feel any of the warmth I feel when I'm around him.

Then again, no other four walls have ever felt like home, except for the ones I left in Colombia.

I've briefly considered it, though. Going back. After all, I've not been home since my abuela passed almost two years ago. I know I should. To visit her resting place, at the very least. But the thought of going back there and finding it as empty as this apartment is right now makes me want to throw up what little is in my stomach.

So, what do I do? Where do I go? How can I be thankful for things that aren't really mine, and be merry and bright all on my own? I'm tired of crying, and of keeping it all in. I want to be able to find my own place in this world. I need to. For me.

But how? How do I get to a place that might not physically exist? And how do I tell him that I need him there, in my life, no matter what?

[thalia-vargas]

all moved in 🏡

[thalia-vargas]

sunrise

[thalia-vargas]

[thalia-vargas]

Five hours felt like forever.

But as soon as Thalia arrived in her tiny L.A. apartment, she sank into her couch with a big sigh of relief. There truly was no place like home, she thought as she closed her eyes and basked in the silence, only for the silence to remind her that this wasn't her home.

Thalia opened her eyes to the blank TV staring back at her. This was not her TV. At least, not her own. With what little money she makes doing odd jobs, she wouldn't have been able to afford a TV like that. Nor a couch like this. Or even a whole apartment like the one she'd been staying in for the past few months. She was only subletting from a friend who was kind enough to not charge her a ridiculous amount like every other landlord in LA do.

Her thoughts were distracted by the tiny beep coming from her phone. She smiled as soon as she read the message, eager to respond. But with her thumbs poised to type, she stopped herself. Maybe she shouldn't be so eager. Staring at the words on the screen, she remembered the conversation they'd had a few days ago and was reminded of things said, smiles mustered, and pains felt, swiftly hidden. Even so, she ached to reciprocate the sentiment staring at her on the glaring white screen.

"You miss me?" It read. "I miss you."

Of course, she missed him. He needn't ask her for it to be true. The second she had to let go of his hand at the airport, she missed him already. But she knew she shouldn't. Missing anyone never does anybody any good. And yet, that's all she seems to be capable of — missing everybody. Everybody who had come into her life to make their mark, somehow, somewhere, their paths eventually part.

She ought to be stronger than this, she thought to herself, as a fresh wave of sadness rolled down her cheek. And yet she couldn't help but reply: "Of course. More than I can say."

And if there were any truer statement in the world, it was that.

[thalia-vargas]

goodnight

[thalia-vargas]

hasta la próxima

[thalia-vargas]

sometimes i think i have nothing in common with my younger self but then i remember the way i carry hope like a whisper. how i keep looking for the extraordinary in the quiet corners of my day. how i still feel every little thing too much.

[thalia-vargas]

weekend recap

[thalia-vargas]

home alone

[thalia-vargas]

christmas tree hunting 🎄

[thalia-vargas]