They say the eyes are the window to the soul.
The words Wow, you’re strong for your age almost come out of my mouth, but that doesn’t sound very polite.
I open my eyes and stare at the page. I see the black letters. But I also see the pinks and greens and purples and yellows. I can’t say I’m surprised.
Do not forget, life is a dance between making things happen and letting things happen.
Like all big mistakes, mine started with a goat.
But if I’m being totally honest, I wouldn’t be riding my bike to school at dusk, with nefarious deeds ahead, if that telegram hadn’t arrived last month. The goat came a little later.
A dark-haired woman in a long skirt strolled through the door. The little boy perched on her hip clutched a purple bear. Amanda tilted her head to see both the boy and the bear better. The boy squirmed, and his mother set him down on the floor while she went up to the counter.
No,” Ray says. “He’s getting paid in magic beans. Of course he’s getting real money!
They crawled toward each other, and then with some unspoken understanding, both pushed off the floor with their hands and stood. Four parents and many bemused party guests watched as the two babies took their very first steps, crashed into each other, and fell to the floor laughing.
I sigh. I wonder if practicing in my head counts. I can easily picture myself doing a perfect routine. Somehow it comes out differently once gravity gets involved.
I wrote my first poem about a bunny. ‘Bunny, bunny, hop hop hop. White and soft like a little mop.
Okeydokey.” “I think I liked you better when I didn’t understand you.
Okey – ” “Don’t say it.” “Dokey.
Mom promised me she’d only activate the tracker if I went missing, but when I stopped to buy gum after school last month, she texted me to get a quart of milk. Coincidence? I think not.
You never know what you’ll learn when you open one. And if it’s a story, you sort of fall into it. Then you live there for a while, instead of, you know, living here.
Truly being able to see the needs of others around you, that is a rare gift. Only when you embrace it will you start to learn who you are, and begin going after what you really want.
He was a wonderful companion. The most charming fiddler I ever did see. But he got tired. He was ready to go.” I.
Whoa!” she says as I plow into her. ” What are you DOING? Get off me!” I hang on tight. “Can’t a girl just hug her big sister?” She stops fighting me. “Are you dying? Am I dying? Did Grandma die? I laugh. “No one died.” “Then get off!
My father plowed under our fields to make the landing space for his helicopter. Jenna’s father thinks my father is lazy since he only flies three times a week and is back by dinnertime. My father thinks Jenna’s father should mind his own business.
Then he lets out a surprisingly strong mustard-colored meow and settles back into his mother’s warmth. Who ever heard of a cat named Mustard? Impossible.
The pain hits me in thick black waves. I scream loud enough to wake the dead... only it doesn’t.