Waving Through A Window

I can’t compete with Mario. 

As much as I try to be the funny, fat, balding grandfather figure to my nephew’s son, he just won’t have it anymore. 

Luigi, Mario, the Princess and an array of mushrooms and gold coins have stolen his attention. 

I FaceTime with him and I feel like I’m waving through a window as no one is listening to my taps on the glass. 

I get the required, Hi Yayo, and his eyes go back to Nintendo land. 

I miss the little boy who laughed at my Little Red Riding Hood with the baskets of croquetas and pastelitos for Grandma story.  

This lack of attention is spilling into other aspects of my life too. 

Positive words have been calling out to me for weeks and I haven’t been able to give them entry on to these pages. 

They too have been waving through their own window, asking me to give them life. 

I’ve been distracted. 

My passion tends to find flight to places where it can’t help but travel and I follow blindly. Sometimes, against my better judgment, I make the trek toward the uncomfortable. 

Once I’m there, I deliver in full force the uncensored message I scribbled on the glass. 

Somewhere between the realm of artistry and insanity, I present myself in lights that can often times highlight the warts. 

Still, whether it be window or mirror or child of mine that I wave to with my flaws in full display, I have to respect my reflection and I have to be comfortable with the me coming through the glass. 

I have to make sure that my taps have meaning and that what little attention I get is warranted. 

So I continue to wave through these windows, I continue to tap on the glass and I continue to seek attention. 

With any luck, someday soon,  somebody will wave or tap back and get my attention. Hopefully, it will be someone other than Mario. 


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