fortyfour

The old fence started at the house and went on for miles, and my hand met every inch of it that day. Its white paint was splintered with the wood. I think I picked a splinter out with every third step.

The house, I had found it that way. The dress, the one-legged teddy bear, the flintlock that hadn't been fired since before the Civil War. I was twelve.

And all the stories I'd told before and all the ones I've told since aren't enough to explain why I had to leave that morning.

#118

I had a broken heart once. Piece by piece I worked to place it back together. A potent and flammable mix of crazy glue and sheer will. I thought, just maybe, it could be the heart it was before tragedy and loneliness.
You tried to tuck some stray hair behind my ear and for a split second it stayed, then wiggled loose, falling forward and poking in all directions. “You should grow it long.” My hair hangs past my shoulder blades now.
If the adage is true that home is where the heart is, I will be at home no matter where I go. My poor little heart. Krazy glue and all, it has shattered all over. Since you left, I’ve tried to meet new people. Some have asked me to dinner. I accepted a few offers, but found a way out before the first kiss. Maybe it’s better this way. Why give away something that’s in pieces?

#117 (in rare form)

During zombie movie night I told you to never hold my hand while running when zombies attack in real life. It’ll slow us down! I said. You smiled and agreed and offered to make more popcorn. The microwave dinged and I heard you rustling in the kitchen.
Bowls are in the top left cupboard! I yelled.
You stumbled down the steps and dropped the whole bowl, scattering popcorn on the floor. You looked down, sort-of shrugged, and chomped my brains instead.

#116

When you come back to life (in your next life, of course), you will come back brilliant. Not in the way that Einstein was a genius inventor, or that Neruda was a captivating poet, but more in the way that those men were inspired. When a star is born with a raging fire and sheds its light over everything, it ends in a flash of bright white and whispered wishes.

#115

It was a bad day in suburbia.
My politician father left my perfectly permed mother hanging for their dinner date. Under my mattress hid my D-ridden report card and I slipped into a new dress. You took me to dinner and I spilled cheese and diet coke in my lap, and my brother saw me and smiled deviously because he knew I was grounded. We went bowling and you put the bumpers up so I could avoid every gutter ball. When the tenth frame came, my score was only 52.
Sometimes losing feels a little better when you haven’t been set up to win.

#114

“You ought to water your chrysanthemums more.” He tells me. “Before they wither up completely.”
“You can call them ‘mums’” I say. “No need to be so formal.” But I get a leftover Thornton’s Big Gulp cup full of tap water, and I slowly pour the water through the dried out potting soil. Sure enough, the next day, the flowers have a little more color, they are perky before I finish my morning coffee. Today, I brew extra and have it ready in his favorite mug.

When he talks about these things, I know he's really talking about us.

#113

Maybe the loch ness monster is real. I never told you, but Nessie is one of my favorite would-be, may-be myths. I’ve never set foot in Scotland, and I have more Haitian blood in me than anything. Freckles have never really been in the cards for me.

But if it’s real, I love this ancient monster, this asexual loner, who is both elusive and captivating, and has managed to evade every crazed medicine man and money hungry hunter. And why can’t it be real? Scientists discover new species of fish, of bugs and birds, and even rediscover once-declared-extinct species all the time! (All the time- a relative and useful phrase.)

If it’s not real, what a beautiful hoax! So innocent! So thorough that even the Scottish government has ordered that this apparition not be harmed! The giddy excitement of grown men, respected and accomplished in their professions, when face-to-face with the suggestion that this goose chase could indeed be fruitful!

I told you this, finally, and you told me about the plesiosaurus bath toy you had as a child and I caught you smiling patronizingly to me all night. But I will hold this thought and keep it, and strive to never lose wonderment at all the possibilities in this world.