elusive and beautiful

36. 

I admire humility. There is something elusive and beautiful about the trait. I don't seem to know how to do humility very well without being forced into it by severe trials and challenges in life, but hey, whatever it takes, right? I can see how it is becoming part of me more and more each passing day; however, I promise you it doesn't come naturally to me some days still. My loud-mouth ways are enough to keep humility at bay forever. 

I'd like to hear from any of you about a personality trait that you admire. Leave a comment or tweet me. 

dirt clods and board games

35.

Just the other day, I was telling a friend about some of the best times I can remember with my brothers. We used to have these merciless dirt clod fights out in the way back yard, but we were also big on board games with our mom. We'd play Monopoly for hours on end like it was to the death, and we'd always try but could never beat mom at Scrabble. It was a given that whoever got second place was the winner of the kids. My dad was pretty much AWOL during these times. I think he needed some alone time away from the hyperactive electricity that would take over his children when we'd put on our competitive hats. 

My friend asked how I was able to make it through those dirt clod fights. Well, I'm not quite sure exactly, probably by the grace of God really (my future children needed their mother), but I think I made it through relatively unscathed because I was fighting for my life up against a ton of boys and trying to look tough while usually being the only girl at the fight all at the same time. Somehow I never could win since I was always outnumbered; it didn’t matter which team I was on. If I was on the team, that team was somehow the loser. I think there was some sexism going on there, but we won't get into that. It must have been quite the sight to see me up in that tree house, the only girl, hurling dirt clods as fast and hard as I could. I used to try to find ones with rocks in them especially for getting any older boys who might be there. My mean streak was most likely fostered during this time out of pure necessity. And at the end of them, I’d come out of those fights completely covered in a fine layer of dirt. My hair was by far the worst, but nasty dirty patent leather mary janes are not as girly all of a sudden, too. 

Now, I've given up at throwing dirt clods with rocks for fun, but I love playing Monopoly and Scrabble even though I don't have the chance as often as I'd like. All this talk about games is telling me I need to find some friends to have a game night with soon! 

view from a train wreck

From the outside looking in lies a train wreck
Smoldering on the wayside with little to no hope
For an extinguisher to put things right
It takes time, so much time for it to burn itself out
That it appears limitless in scope for all the smoke
With no respite from the licking flames
No refreshment from the choking charred air
From which new breaths, freedom's song, must be stolen

Cherished friendships bound to safe limits
Are all that can and should be afforded
The flames still burning too high
Raw emotionality which will not soon subside
Makes a poor and insufficient offering
To those sweet ones on the pathway bright
Happily treading their way along the road
Taking time for the luxury of repose
Granting generous portions of their precious gifts
But cannot, must not risk any of their priceless hearts

To a train wreck still smoldering
On the inside looking out, there is a lone heart
Dying secretly yet grasping, hanging on to hope
For there must be light enough to set things right
But it takes time, so much time to find your way out
That it seems you never can or will
With no rest for the burnt and weary warrior
Do no enter this blackened scenery, mon nouveau coeur
From whom this broken one might have borrowed
A breath of fresh air

on autumn and sweaters

With the weather turning chilly, I get out my sweaters and blankets and the longing for someone to hold me. The sun sets early and takes with it its warming embrace, forcing me to acknowledge the lack of loving touch in my life. There is nothing quite so lonely as the mid night hours when snuggled underneath the covers, and no one else is there to hold onto. 

I've always said that sweater weather is my favorite time of year. It matters not if it is chilly autumn evenings in the hills and mountains, winter any time with snow laying on the ground, spring mornings as the sun begins to dare to shine, or the summer nights along the central coasts' beaches I grew to love as a teenager. Sweater weather comes and goes no matter the season and that is what I like best about it. 

Sweaters are a shirt that hugs you. Maybe that's why I like them, too. You can be all by yourself and still have warming pressure wrapped snugly around your arms and back. You can embrace warmth.

Hug, anyone?

interface between hearts

Be mine, and I'll be yours for eternity

The words seem to come so easily
Naturally beautiful, hopefully achievable

And to what end will it all come?
Will there ever be someone to love me?
To be loved for who I am--a wish and a dream

A heart packed tight
With love and laughter
And heartache and baggage
The things that make a life lived with passion

Holding on for love hurts now
Holding out for another possibly broken dream
But still, not just anyone but a special someone will do
With heart and humor and something more
A desire to lead and love and listen and stay

Oh, this tender, loving, beating heart
So desiring to find a darling someone
Becoming friends with everyone
And no one all at the same time
The distance is imperceivable to most
Yet tangible to anyone who knew her before

Wading through the blinding fog
Putting out one hand to feel
To see if there might be a daring love waiting
Worthy of her divine destiny
Wishing with one eye open
For someone with whom to intertwine
Her careworn hands and tattered heart

Wound too tight with no reprieve
It is too much
The dreams bite and sting
Wishes cut like knives
Tears burn yet cleanse
A heart full of love
With no one to hold
No one wants to be mine