deviousgrn

deviousgrn

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in cellophane and gleaming gold, i found them today. a small sweet piece of my childhood, treats from my grandmother's house that used to slip accidentally down our throats and scare us but that never kept our hands out of the candy jar. these aren't the cheap, corn-syrup ones, but the real brach's butterscotch wrapped snugly in yellow paper.

in his smile, in his blue eyes, in his kentucky-meets-indiana accent. . . his laugh, his arms, i find delight in all of these things and i know that i am headed for some trouble here. but i couldn't stop if i wanted to.

like nostalgic, this is emotion is my downfall. i can't face the past without drowning in it, wishing, longing, looking over every missed chance or lost love and wondering what if. i have to make the effort to not get lost in wistful, but to face my present with the same longing.

cherished things that, when gathered, create a set. anything and everything that can lift a mood, bring forth a memory, or create a smile.

i used to think of myself as creative, carrying journals around with me wherever i went in case a thought came to me. i filled journal after journal with my words, verses in different language and song lyrics... and i loved through the words. life interrupts the creative mind, and now i am searching for that outlet again. one word helps.

i am not sure what his is. he says the right things, and i am weak kneed at his smile. the blue eyes absolutely kill me. and he know this, i am sure. he says all the right things, xes and os and all that happy stuff. . . but what is his intent? why can't i trust all those right things he says?

one of the three year olds in my class has the most willful personality that i have come across in fifteen years of teaching. she is also big for her age, and this is a challenging combo. smaller children, when they tantrum, i can pick up and move out of the way to a safe place with ease. this one, she is going to hurt me or herself.

god

a theory that some hold and others deny. is there anyone out there? who watches over me? and where is he/she when i am hurting and alone? must we take everything on faith or can there be some PROOF. . . who is out there?

writing since 2013 · 22 entries · 22 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means amy showed up.

5longest streak

22days written

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on this day 13 years ago

amy wrote about captivate
“usually it's the eyes: i am a sucker for green eyes. that sly side smile gets me too, and if there is sarcasm and a sparkle i am gone. captivate me.”

the words amy reaches for

nowsmileeyesplatefeetbluefacelovesteadypitcherrockshandsothersoldssureabsolutely