theticklishpear
"I promise," she said, dropping to one knee to look the little girl in the eye as she cuddled the kitten to her chest. He had been their first pet, adorable and beautiful. "I promise he's happy, playing with all the other kittens in the sky. Didn't you know that snow is just the kittens playing in thr flour of God's kitchen?"
"There are things I must do," he told me, placing the silver band on the end of the counter. I believed him. It was silly of me, but I had to. 'I must believe in him,' I told myself, because if I didn't, I'd implode.
"Hand me that book, will you?"
"Which? We're in a library, you know. You have to be more specific."
"The one closest to your hand--the one I'm pointing at, silly."
"This Writer's Reference book? Sounds dull."
"Sure, but useful. Now hand it here."
Cherish the experiences you have. It's how you learn. It's how you love. It's how you discover. It's how you explore. Find things out by living them, not just reading about them or ignoring them. Experience everything. Forget nothing.
Lord, let him live. There's nothing worse than watching your best friend from your youth fade before your eyes. As one without roots, a place to call my own, my people are my own. Take them away, and you take a part of me. I am less for having that person gone. Lord, just let him live.
Having somewhere to place things. To be placed in space without feeling out of place. Somewhere to call home. There's a problem with moving all the time. You end up without roots. Without some answer to the question, "Where are you from?" "I'm a global citizen." It's the closest you can come to the truth when you have no place of your own.
The amount of love in the world is greatly lacking. There's a lot, actually, in the world that is lacking. Weigh the world--how much love is there? How many pounds of the stuff? I think you'll find the amount terrifyingly low.
Her horse stood beside her, a barrel-chested bay that had hooves the size of dinner plates. He snuffled at her hand, looking with lips and huge nostrils for any residue of the sugar cubes she had held moments ago. "Hush," she said, pushing the horse away affectionately. "You've had enough for the day, silly."
I am female. Everyone seems to see that as a problem. Something to be ashamed of. Or excited about. Or something. Anything. They want me to make a sandwich. They want me to defend myself from society. They think I'm unhappy with their treatment of me or with my life. I'm not. I'm perfectly content. I know I can do what I want, when I want to. And tell everyone else to stop meddling with my life. I'll live it how I want, and they can go find a cliff to jump off of.
"Sure, I'll go with you."
"There's nothing wrong with not wanting to."
"No, I want to. I want to go."
"Really?"
"Sure as the ocean's deep."
"Okay," he said, looking over his shoulder as he approached the garden's gate. His hand rested almost protectively on it, as it had once rested on her own. She wasn't sure his hand would ever alight on her shoulder that way again. Not now.
writing since 2012 · 11 entries · 10 days shown up
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