Thursday Night Throw Back Laurara Monique
Track: Back to California—Sugarcult
Mood: Relaxed, thinking.
(Tonight, my brain is racing, one thought isn’t possible. Instead of giving into writer’s block, this will be a way of letting you into my head. I’m currently working on the next chapter. Thank you for reading).
Tonight is Thursday and it’s raining outside, one of the most beautiful things in this life for me is the smell of rain and the sound of it pattering against the roof of the house. And it’s nights like this that I throw on some Sugarcult and cram in some writing because it’s what I love to do. Right now, I’m thinking back to a time I was listening to Sugarcult with my best friend in Las Vegas, skateboarding. The sun was so hot beaming down on us as we made our way down Tropicana Ave. They were some of my best memories and I loved every single one of them.
It’s 5AM and it’s cold, I can see the warm air from my lung’s flow from my mouth. It was time for school and I had about 2 and half miles to walk—or ride my bike in, dad wouldn’t be caught dead taking me to school. I remember one time I was supposed to be expecting him at the Chevron next to my middle-school, he never showed up, I waited two hours and he didn’t show. I started to walk home the “way I thought,” was the way home. I remember looking down and praying to God that he would help me walk home safely. I remember picturing his sandals walking beside my tom boy sneakers. It was just one week after my baptism in the Mormon church and I felt the spirit like crazy—it was magical. There were times I could have cried because I could literally feel the love of God comfort my roughest days. I remember never missing a day of prayer for so long and the testimony I have for prayer is indescribable. There were times in my life when all I could do was rock back and forth, like a baby in a fetal position and hope that God would bless my family.
And those memories from Las Vegas will always be held close to my heart—but in 2005 it was time for us to move on with our lives and move back to Utah. It would be a “better place,” as my parents described. My earliest memories of Utah was the ballpark by Hunter Jr. High school and Whittier Elementary. The golden hour would come and I can still see my little self looking over the gate, as I heard people playing baseball cheering. It was warm and the grass smelled so good because we had just cut the lawn.
Dad may have been an asshole, but he sure was a handyman. That man could build anything with his own two hands and he had an eye like no other. I know that it’s him who passed the creativity in my life. My father might have betrayed us, but he’s always going to be my father, right? When you have two hands that can paint, draw, build and love why would you waste it away with alcohol and smoking cigarettes? The most he did with those two hands were probably muscle related and smoking….
Sadly, my mom’s poor hands had to take the life long beating from working as a mother and a father—all to raise her children, to give them a better chance at life. I mean, Romania wasn’t the place for us and mom knew. That’s why she came to America and that is why we made it here to Utah. My Grandpa was a popular comedian in Los Angeles during the 75-80 and beyond. After living a selfish life, he died alone. Grandpa fell between the couch and side table, he had a heart attack and I remember the smell because when you pass away, you don’t control your bowels. Grandpa was gone and died alone.
Much like I feel my own father might go, sad that it has to be this way. Why does life lead the way it does some days? I don’t know, but I know that every time something bad has happened, there was a lesson and it meant that I was able to learn and grow as a person. I’ve started to realize every hardship in my life has been nothing but a blessing in disguise. And sometimes the hardest battles are fought alone, but when you are honest, humble and persistent there’s not a chance of failure.
You are what you make of yourself—never forget that.