And then. . .

sunlight streaming fissures of light  breaking through the trees blades of winter grass against my hand a comfortable silence that simply is

responsibility, obligations, commitment, the list can go on. these words seem to be plaguing me recently. it reminds of the time when i used the term "supposed to". that was my answer when ever someone asked why i was doing something, "because i'm supposed to", but that only led me down a path that was filled with living my life for other people. is that right? is that okay? to live your life for the people around you? to owe them your life? i'm not sure, i don't know, perhaps for some people it's their path to follow, it's their happiness, but still...  i can look now and see the people that filled my position in those other peoples lives and i sigh, i sigh a great sigh of relief from the depths of my toes, because they saved me. that sigh is the only breathy thanks i can give without waking them from their obligated slumber. inadvertently, the tiny burst of courage that was given to me gave me the ability to move so that someone else, someon...

I stared into his eyes from across the table. They were slightly glazed and his pupils were a dilated. Perhaps they were fine and mine were just fuzzy. It really could have been both this far into the evening. I could feel the weight of my eyelids and the tight dryness in my eyes. The lights seemed so bright overhead. I looked down at the counter top and stared at my hand. It seemed much smaller than usual next to his. He was bigger in the only way he could be. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, but I knew that I was waiting. Instead of starting the conversation I feigned ignorance and continued to stare at my hand, to stare at anything but his eyes. The silence was quickly broken.             “So, are you seeing him? You don’t have to lie,” I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. We sat waiting for our food. It was late 6:30am. The sun was beginning it's embrace over the mountain. “I didn’t want you to know, is all....

. . . there are pieces pieces floating around, trying all to do the same things things. It's an amazing feat what people do, constantly thinking, processing, analyzing, dissecting, interpreting, digressing. . . When life is happening at that moment in front of them the seconds passing passing. It would be a lie if I weren't guilty of the same same. But, there are instances though, where a moment is truly caught, realized, and the pieces somehow fit fit. The puzzle is no longer, and there is a sigh of relief when you realize that you are not alone alone. Then again to thinking, processing, analyzing, dissecting, interpreting, digressing. . .

X marks the spot. When I was thirteen I was in love. I believed that this was my great love. With all my being I had to be with him. I had to breathe his air. Taste his taste. Without him I truly believed that I would die. Now sixteen years later I'm still breathing. Not his air. Tasting, but not his taste. But, I still remember the longing. The way my heart yearned in that youthful way, and I have a small reminder. A small X on my left ankle, where he cut me. Quite literally with a razor blade. So he could taste my taste.

There's a time and a place where everything appears to be fine; calm, steady. But, the calm means something, cloudy with a chance of tornado. Sometimes you have to believe that, the coming storm is good. Even when the clouds dance and grumble in their darkness and varying shades of grey. The clouds always hold the hope of a rainbow. A figurative kaleidoscope of hope.

Fall is coming, and I am excited. The weather changes and with it comes a breath of cool air to breathe some newness into our lives. A freshly minted snowflake that glitters in the light. For the first time in a long time fall and the holidays means something positive. . .