elizabethmoon
Clean the house. Wash the windows. Wear clean clothes. Study. Plan the classes. Be enthusiastic. Be firm. Be fair. Be informative. Be interesting. Be patient. Listen to their complaints. Discipline well. Cook. Eat healthily. Be friendly. Smile. Remember everyone's name. Shop in the landlord's store. Stay in at night. Sleep well.
The dusty smell of old books. A sense of lost, of resources unused. My mother took me as a child, it was a treat. Now people only go for movie rentals. The library is empty. Obsolete. But it still spells like books, feels of paper. No computer, or nook, or electronic thing can give me the satisfaction of turning to the last page of a good book.
It's time, is all, working away at what was once brilliant. Like all things, we are turned over by time and tarnished. Beauty fades. Things that were once sure, are no longer. If we are not improving, if we think we are maintaining and standing in place, we are wrong.We are always moving one way, or the other.
When I was a child, I had a toy typewriter. It was blue and heavy. When my parents were gone, and my brothers were in charge, I would get angry for no reason at all and run up to my room. I would lock the door and throw my typewriter into the ground over and over. James thought that I needed to be committed. No one ever asked why I was angry, and my parents never saw that side of me.
The clack of the keys, the hassle of erasing, the beauty of the letters. I like the small smear by each one, of the action in writing, the commitment to the words, and the finality of each stroke. The satisfaction of pressing down on the keys.
I counted the stamps on the envelope. I wanted to make sure there are enough to get to you, to reach you. You're so far away and I wanted to tell my plans for the future. I didn't know you'd change your mind before it had time to get there.
I want to feel it again. The awe, the chill that runs across my skin, from my spine out to my digits. I want to feel it in you.
The willow sat out on the corner of the property, giant and flowing down her leafed ropes. I had always wanted to swing on them, jump out into the lake, and swim off to the island. It was like my dream of flying, it almost felt tangible. But I would scramble up her wooded branches, and jump onto the weeping droops, only to fall back to the ground.
My grandfather loved trains. When we'd travel, we'd often stop off at old railways, especially old covered bridges, covered in mosses and ivy. He'd get out and take pictures. My bedroom had a strange collection of rail ties, like giant nails.
It's the power is holds over us,
that ingrained pattern,
unbreakable, even for a moment,
We want to leave this
way of doing things,
move on, improve,
be better people,
but we fall back,
we become what we have always been.
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writing since 2010 · 24 entries · 23 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Elizabeth showed up.
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the words Elizabeth reaches for
lovemeanssmilegrownresponsiblestopusuallychatlistenmindnightheldwordsheetsbluelay