LittleBuddhaTW

Now, a couple of weeks into the ceasefire, life in Medellín finally started to take on the shape of something that looked, at least from a distance, like normalcy. Children were back on the swings at the parks, squealing with delight as their parents chatted nearby. Young moms pushed strollers slowly along the tree-lined paths in El Poblado. The cafés were open again – tables spilling out onto the sidewalks – and once more filled with friends leaning in close, whispering over cappuccinos an

I settled under our guayacán tree that Monday morning, but its usual warmth felt brittle. Sunshine filtered through petals of vivid yellow, dusting the courtyard in confetti – yet I felt hollow. My stomach churned like I was floating in a boat on choppy seas. The weekend with Miguel lingered like a dream. Now I was back, surrounded by my friends, but a part of me was gone – lost on those lake waters. Around me, the group had changed. Zack lounged cross-legged, flipping through his notebook

I knew there was going to be drama. I set it up that way. Maybe that was a bit manipulative, but I needed the truth. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe what I really needed was to learn how to let things go – to stop being such a paranoid drama queen. But those were thoughts for another day. For now, I needed answers. I needed to know whom I could trust. Who actually cared about me? Who maybe didn’t. Or if I was just some stupid "gringo prize" in a competition between Yeison and Miguel. The idea

Waking up on Sunday morning was a completely different experience from the day before. No rooster was crowing obnoxiously in the distance, no cold sheets beside me. Instead, I was wrapped in warmth – Miguel’s body pressed up against mine, his arms loosely draped around my waist, his bare chest rising and falling gently against my back. I felt the heat of his breath tickle my neck, followed by soft, slow kisses along my shoulders, my throat, and the side of my face. I stirred and blinked my eyes

Thank you for the helpful feedback. One of my future plans, when I am able to start writing again (long story), is to do a complete re-write of Someday Out of the Blue (since it's been 20 years since I first wrote it). I'll keep the original posted, too, for the sake of nostalgia. I'd really like to see Connor get his own band; that's one of the things I'm trying to think of how to integrate. BUT, I've still got Swing for the Fences: Stealing Home (Book 2), which is only halfway done, When I See You Again, more Extra Innings short stories, novellas ("Noah" is still not cooperating and I've about given up on it completely), and an idea for a collection of flash fiction pieces focused on Jonah, and several other partially fleshed-out ideas after that, including a possible Book 3 for Swing for the Fences (plus my productivity has come to a halt for the last month). It will all get done, just maybe not as fast as I was originally planning (hoping, praying, whatever)! Sometimes life gets in the way.

This is very true, and I've had similar (and much more dramatic, as in needing to call the police to remove an ex who broke into my apartment at 4 AM) situations in my long and complicated history of love, like, and hook-ups. It's hard, but life goes on. Took me 3 years to really get over my divorce until I met "Luis," who has been preventing me from doing any serious writing for the past month. Once we get past that "honeymoon" phase, I'll be right back at it, I promise (and Medellin is still posting every week, it just may slightly delay Stealing Home and Extra Innings). "Luis," like many of the less fortunate boys in Medellin, just needs a lot of guidance and help to break out of the cycle of poverty. And he's a complicated guy, a little hyperactive, very sensitive, and has "daddy issues," which most Colombian boys do, since most Colombian boys don't live in a two-parent household or even know their fathers. It's a tragedy here, and one of the biggest societal problems that no one has really felt like taking on.

You can find both Tabasco and Sriracha and a variety of hot sauces here. They've all been watered down (de-spiced, so to speak) for the Colombian market. I have to buy the real stuff from Amazon and have it shipped down here. It's not exactly cheap.

On Sunday morning, I almost considered going to church to repent for my sins. Almost. Yeison was still asleep, curled up in my bed like a little angel, his lips parted just slightly, his arm slung over the pillow where I had been sleeping. His curls were tousled, and the faintest smile played on his face, like maybe he was dreaming of something warm and sweet. Maybe of me. And that only made everything worse. I slipped out quietly, pulled on my swim trunks, and dove into the pool. The

I think there are a couple of isolated spots deep in the Andes that may get some, but for 99.95% of the country, no. It's sunny, warm, and beautiful here today, as it usually is. I do miss the snow, and I miss the changing of the seasons a lot. Here, it's just one long season, with the only difference that it rains more in some months and is drier in others. That's what you get for being on the equator.

There's an adult who cares about Hunter a lot. He just has to be cautious as to how he goes about doing so.

I tried it once here, and it ended with me having to call the police to haul him out of my apartment, kicking and screaming.

The school week dragged on like a sentence I didn’t remember being convicted for. Every class, every lunch break, every half-hearted joke with my friends felt like wading through syrup. The worst part was knowing I was the one making things weird. We still met up in the courtyard every morning, under the same tall, wind-worn tree that had become our little sanctuary. But the energy was different now. Zack was still his quiet, perceptive self, sketching silently while watching everyone with

Yes, that's right. I'm an American expat who's lived in Colombia for nearly a decade. I've been to Cartagena as well. Very beautiful, but very hot, very expensive, and too many tourists for my liking. My favorite part of Cartagena was taking a boat out to the Islas del Rosario. Private beaches, cabanas, and great snorkeling. The city's history is fantastic, too, especially the old Spanish fort. I don't really see myself going back anytime soon, though. There are many nicer beaches (albeit with far, far fewer amenities) that are more off the beaten path.

All I can say is how a Colombian would reply to that: "Bienvenido a Colombia!" (Welcome to Colombia!)

I do believe I warned y'all that Hunter would be an extremely dislikable "protagonist." However, I promise you that things are moving in the way they need to/are supposed to go. The condom bit is important, but usage here is very low, which is why there is such a high rate of teen pregnancy and rising rates of HIV in the country. The biggest reason why is that they are very expensive here, and would be considered a luxury for many working people. There are NGOs that do free testing and hand out condoms for free. PrEP, though, is being adopted quite quickly here because the government-run healthcare system provides it for free, which is a very good thing. My boyfriend is on PrEP, for example.