The piñata girl

When I was little I established my own party planning committee. I was its only member. Me and my tiny green notebook for taking suggestions and desires from my only customer: my little sister.

I started celebrating people when I was little. And piñatas were my favorite way of doing that. It is something I never grow tired of and can’t imagine I ever would: watching someone’s face curve up toward sparkling eyes. Value is something I have always been passionate about. It is deeply important for me to show others how much they are valued despite circumstance, especially ones that create blinders.

My grandparents are two people that make me feel the most special. Whenever grandpa and I are out in public he has to introduce me to everyone he sees: “Bill! You have to meet my granddaughter. Look how beautiful she is.” I instantly feel like a three year old who was given the most frosted cookie. I think sometimes people are willing to sacrifice that giddy, childlike feeling because, as an adult, we grow uncomfortable to be praised for who we are.

Before one of my high school dances—with the themes and the flowers and the endless cheap Italian dishes—my grandparents came over to see me in my dress. My grandma grabs my arm and pulls me aside, looks into my eyes—all done up in cat black and glitter: “You are beautiful”. Grandpa slides in, tossing: “You always are beautiful; would look beautiful in a paper sack!” I lack no self-confidence in their presence. My up-top power couple have taught me everything there is about seeing and celebrating people.

I am the piñata girl. The one who always wants to run. The one who will shout and haller for no reason other than to show someone I love them. I like loud love. I can love quietly, oh yes, but I much prefer being loud ;)

happy day to meeeee!