I have seen the starry night
Just a blur of bright
Yellow and white
I have danced the naked street
Darkened bare feet
To a silent beat
No matter where I must run
What hills I am from
I will come
When you need a friend to pull along
A moment in time to belong
Or a harmony to your song
It was a brisk morning, a hard morning
I woke up at six, let my baby sleep a little longer
Eggs and toast my fuel, double layers my warmth
We made it out, eventually
Just a dirty diaper or two, just a tear or two
Just a typical morning, just a jog
We made it to the hill, not so much a mountain
I worried about mud, I was right
The ten miles became nearly eleven and a half, how dare they
I ran comfortably, at first
Was up in front, felt like a speed demon
Two caught up with me, way too soon
But I ran well, felt the burn on the uphill
Tripped a little, took some foliage with me
And made it third overall, first woman
It feels good to race, sometimes
Especially when free massages. free beer
Meet you at the finish line
Being young and having a baby puts me in an awkward place with my peers. Most women my age are only just getting engaged, or otherwise they are in school and working five days a week. This places me at the edge of circles, not yet old enough to be considered in the mom groups and in such a different place in life that I feel strangely mature in my usual group of friends.
I know I’m not the only mom to feel this way. My life doesn’t revolve fully around my child and husband. I don’t have dinner on the table every night. I just want to go on long runs in the forest and come home to a smiling baby, but that’s an impossible daydream.
I do like to work. I enjoy the feeling of earning my money and paying bills. I enjoy helping others.
Maybe what I’m trying to say is that I feel too young, too old, too busy, too lazy, and nowhere near where I wish I were in life.
I’ve always dreamt of traveling the world and learning new languages, of meeting new people and living in both poverty and riches in order to fully understand the world. I wanted to be a police officer, unbiased toward even the most distinctly different person. I wanted to be a writer, able to carry emotions in my words and change people though them. I wanted to be a wanderer, untethered by family or feelings and able to explore the entire expanse of the earth by wit alone.
But I found myself married at twenty years old and it’s possible that none of those dreams will ever come into fruition. And perhaps that is all they ever were: dreams. They were ideas that I latched onto and ruminated over so often that I found no fault in them.
Now I do find fault in them. They are missing my husband and my son and my family and friends and perhaps I feel for them more than I let on. I can be stoic and tired and hard and untouchable but I don’t think I can live without the people that surround me.
I sympathize for moody teenagers because I was one, but I also understand the need for stability and nine to fives and those days that drag on because they mean you love and are loved. I love and am loved, and I could continue to pine away for my unfulfilled dreams but sometimes things come into your life that you never expect and you never knew you needed.
I never meant for this to become what it is, but I guess I needed to write some things out for them to make sense in my head. Thank you for listening.
Have you ever noticed how different we all are? Even people that are similar have differences. We dress different, give our bodies our own flair. Celebrities try to be each other, we try to be them, and yet we cannot. Do you know why? Because we can never be the same as someone else. We are not clones cut from the same mold or the same exact ingredients. Even children are different from those who made them. There are changes in personality, changes in the way they walk, differences in what they prefer to eat. Twins, the people who are the closest to each other, are different. None of us is like another.
Still we try.
We shape our bodies and our faces to be like people we know. Mass groups are changing themselves, compromising their images to be false. Why do we do it? What have we to gain? We have so much to gain from being unique. From each person we can learn. We all have thoughts and words ready to break forth out of our lips. Our ways are our signatures, the signatures that we leave behind when we walk out of a building. They leave people wondering, wanting to know more about us. Our differences hold the interest of those we meet. They are what make friends and enemies and rumors and job offers. Without these, life is lifeless, colorless.
Can you see the sparks?
Leaping off our faces and out our eyes, surrounding our sighs with light and laughter. Those are our desires and feelings. Those are me, drinking my coffee without any sugar. Those are you, drinking your coffee with several spoonfuls. Those are the world, preferring one movie over another, one fabric over another, one topping over another. Those are also the pain that each of us feels. The reason a father hurts his family and the reason a friend betrays a brother.
Without. We are purposeless, gray matter amidst rainbows. Nothing we do can change that we are not alike. Hello, you. It’s me, a person. I am not you. You are not me. Now let us be friends in that broken harmony.
so these last few days have been meaningful.
we have soaked our skin with laughter.
and the sunlight and the ocean have been good to us.
we have flirted with the rooftops of the seaside.
and only you and i know exactly what i’m meaning.
too much sightseeing may have killed us but we’re living
to do a little more a lot of fun over the weekend.
but now to say goodbye in the ‘morrow.
could be a year or even more ’til next i see you.
right off we clicked yes we knew what we were doing.
all the secrets that we spilled like our coladas.
because we knew we would hold to our promises.
but being alone on an island could be the death of me.
and i am so sorry to see you leaving.
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