Tonight

Composed 8/31/13
Description: Sorry for the brief hiatus. Between moving back to college and attending many fun events, I’ve not had time to sit down and write much lately. However, tonight gave me opportunity and inspiration simultaneously. It’s my second night in my apartment on campus… and all my roommates have disappeared, leaving me quite alone. And, thus, Tonight.

Embracing the warmth
Of a hug and fresh tea
Followed by twirls
And effortless leaps
Floating and gliding
Like a bird on the sea
Sadly tonight
That girl isn’t me

Listening, learning
About what’s rarely seen
Praying and working
To meet others’ needs
Doing it all
With sincerity’s gleam
Sadly tonight
That girl isn’t me

Heart pumps, excitement
A blush in her cheeks
Marveling if
He’s as great as he seems
Talking and laughing
Life’s harms seem to flee
Sadly tonight
That girl isn’t me

Trapped in a house
Strange, barren, stuffy
Pencils and paper
Her sole company
With too much time for
Reminiscing
Indeed, tonight
That girl is me

Don’t You?

Composed 8/18/13
Description: Inspired by an unexpected visit yesterday.

Don’t you want me to call you darling
And take your cares off at the door
And hang them on a rusty hook
As you rest your head on my shoulder

Don’t you want another’s ear
To whisper warm melodies
And fingers to press against the keys
When passion floods your heart

Don’t you want to wage war
Sharp tongue battles into the night
Feel the sting and thrill of anger’s slap
And turn our swords when intruders come

Don’t you want a companion
To make you laugh as you journey on
Six hours later falling
Pleased into home

I know you do
Then why do you leave
Alone
As I ask questions?

Sammi

Today Sammi, our dog of nearly 14 years, died. She died with her ears still sticking up.

Some things I will always remember about my puppy: Taking her home the first night. Racing her up the stairs. The way she would get randomly hyper and run around the house. The way she knew when I was sad and made me laugh. The way I could get her ears to stick up by raising the pitch of my voice. How even she knew that wet, rolled up towels are a scary thing. How she always knew when dad was out getting breakfast and would wait eagerly for him (and bacon) to return. How she was always so warm and smelled like a dog, but I loved it. She loved toasting outside in the sun. She loved to have her ears scratched.

I don’t think she ever lived up to her name (Samantha means “obedient”), but she was a sweet, loving dog, and from that first night she was my baby. She will be missed very much.

This morning, when all seemed normal, I called her over and she laid down and rested her head on my foot. Totally randomly, I took a few pictures of her. I only wish now they had been better pictures.

Rest in Peace, Sammi. Thank you for being a part of my life.

Sammi

Harley May

Composed 8/10/13
Description: Inspired by one of my two cats, and the commotion she caused a few mornings ago.

The living embodiment
Of that old cliché
Bolts up the stairs
At the door’s merest sway
But a hunter of hands
When the winds are calm
Hundred sounds then emitting
From the urging of your palm
At night most frisky
Jumping dresser to stand
For a few more strokes
Knocking frames and lamps
That fall then exploding
When the sun is still gone
Then dashing back down
As we wake in alarm

The Phone Call

Composed 8/5/13
Description: Inspired by this week’s Weekly Writing Challenge: I Remember.  The prompt was this: “Set a countdown timer for 10 minutes, choose one of the writing prompts below, and just start writing. Whatever you do, don’t stop for ten minutes. Keep your fingers typing. Write what you remember.” The prompts following were Earliest, Happiest, Worst, or Freestyle memory.  Because I have already written about my first memory,  I chose the other one that came most naturally:  the worst.

What was I doing? I don’t know. I was in the family room; I know that. It was my safe haven. I was surrounded by colorful paper, markers, paint, glue sticks, scissors – just in case I got inspired. My laptop was there as well, right in front of me on the little table in front of the TV. I was probably exploring the Internet or doing homework at the time.

Whatever I was doing, I was doing it without a care in the world.

The phone rang. I didn’t pay much mind to it. Mom would get it. I was so oblivious. I did not even pay attention the conversation taking place a few rooms away. I had no idea of its significance.

Mom called me a few minutes later. I stood, and we met at the end of the family room by the garage door. She looked at me. Something was off. The words she said next would shake up my whole life; they were the words of nightmares, the ones everyone hopes to never hear. She said those words to me.

“The doctor called. They found something on the MRI.”

I froze. The MRI. The seizure I had in the church bathroom a few weeks ago. But… that was all just a dream now. The MRI had been an afterthought. “Just covering my butt,” our doctor said. I thought the seizure was a fluke – just exhaustion after a late band competition. My brain was fine, I thought. I was so convinced of that I didn’t even entertain the possibility of…

Two seconds later tears were running down my face. Sniffs were starting. I was holding in sobs.

Mom, in a similar state, hugged me. I’m not sure now of her exact words, but the sentiment was this: I’m scared too, but we’ll get through this.

Wanderer

Composed 8/5/13
Description: A day late posting of yesterday’s Daily Prompt: Ballerina Fireman Astronaut Movie Star. (I did write it yesterday; other things just distracted me from posting it.) Anyway, as a college student approaching her senior year, I think about this question of “what do I want to be when I grow up” often. As a child I really never had a solid idea, and even though I almost have my major now, I still face endless possibilities, and my desire changes weekly.

I could never read the stars
Or find my path in dusty books
I wandered along with the wind
Letting it push
Here
There
Anywhere

I had no plan
My guide strangely silent
As a child I loved the wind
Its push
The possibilities
But now I long for a wooden path
And an outspoken escort
I don’t mind the where
As long as there is one

I could run in so many directions
And win the race in all
But which will hold the grandest prize?
I agonize
Which trail to take?