The tall one (4’11”) came to me in the winter of ‘97. Bronzed and fine as hell. She lived for this thing called snowboarding that my Latino roots had never seen. Everything was bronzed exept for her 18 year old eyes. They had this raccoon tan that I quizzically found attractive. I thought…”If she is ok walking around with that tan, she must be confident.” Since we met, that raccoon tan has faded. She gave up her first love for me. Crazy. But she was in love with that mountain. One day I’ll figure out what tan I can lose for her.
The pasty one came to me in the summer of 2002. I remember thinking when she came out…”She’s white? Heather. She’s white.” After 15 seconds of infidelity ran through my mind she opened her eyes. I cancelled the DNA tests. She was my spitting image. Oh what that white girl has done for me. She has taken the very core of who I am and ripped it apart. Then she put it back together in an anxiety driven, scared as hell, more passionate way. She has not figured out that I am merely human. She cried for 45 minutes last night because she skinned her knee and would never be able to walk again. She swore that she could never sit, stand, walk, or run on her damaged leg again. 45 minutes. Poor girl. She is so me.
The little one. My beaner. My little taste of chocolate heaven. She squirted out in the fall of 2003. I can say squirted because that is what happened. After 48 hours of labor with the white one, this brown one only took 2. And she has represented that journey out of the womb in every facet of her life. She came out dark. It makes a difference you know. She can snap her fingers and roll her neck at 3. She can put you in your place in a mere second. But when you win her love, it is more colorful that any love you have ever experienced. It took her a whole year to even like me. But when she clicked, it was like a storm of love. And she rains her chocolate love all over me. Every day.
So these are the shades of lady love I am covered in.