I'd Go Around A Time or Two Just To Waste My Time With You...

August 02. 2009

This is the story of a blog(her) who looked like the sun and breathed like the clouds, spreading light when she smiled and darkness when she faded. Too bad, she didn't know her own worth. She kept her days busied with being alive but, never with living. No, no, she wasn't ungrateful of the life nor the blessings which shower her, rather she was just drowning in all the opportunities she had. So she journaled often, scribbling down thoughts, noting that attitudes are contagious, wondering if hers was worthy of catching, but never passing it on. But that's the problem with worthy people and good advice, it's always needed, rarely expressed, and often scribbled. So she scribbles often, here or maybe there but, never in the air. If you reveal your secrets to the wind she says, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees. And so to herself the untapped ability remains.

But, tonight it all changed...

Tonight I wrote down what I truly want out of life, a package of 38 pastel sharpies, fresh sidewalk chalk, bubble mint gum (for 2 people) , the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of water running through. I want air that smells of grass with dew nestled atop it, and children eating Popsicles while running through sprinklers. I want a mother to scold her son for running through the house with shoes on and a couple on the street to whisper about it all. I want that couple to be me and whomever he maybe. But, how pretell am I to tell my parents that in the final semester of schooling I want to leave. I want to sip mango peach chai atop a stoop in Espana (Spain). I want to chase geese in the streets and ride a bicycle to work. I want to work for minimum wage at a small school where the kids can't pronounce my name and I like it. I want my job descriptions to include opening up juice boxes and pouring Lego's onto the floor. I want to grow my hair long and maybe a few tomatoes. Then deep, deep into the night,I'd gaze out into the night sky and write love letters to the moon. And almost in complete jealousy you'd play a lullaby to the sun.

We confess to little faults only to persuade ourselves that we have no great ones. But, of course we do. And if her only fault was that she missed out on love, it's no fault worth taking. She'd wrong a 1000 times over to miss the taste of love just once. And so, I confess my weaknesses to the wind and pray not that God make my load any lighter but, rather he make my shoulders stronger. And should He in that guide my love letter to the moon and the stars fall down onto you, then I will be happy.

Because in the end love has no desire but to fulfill itself.