Because sometimes there are things that I wish I could tell you.

But I just can't.

because here and now

I sat in my room last night, the small rectangle I call mine, waiting for my roommate to get out of the bathroom and wishing for the day that I didn't have to wait anymore.

I began to wonder if on that day I would be happy and then worried that even then it wouldn't be enough.

Suddenly I realized that maybe I should be careful what I wish for, because one day I will be there and the person I can walk in on and won't have to wait for may be messy.

And he may leave toothpaste all over the sink and cupboards open, and he may hang up his shirts in the wrong direction.

And some days, even though I may love him and the little beasties we created together, there might be days where I don't like him and I will get angry.

There will be days that I am bossy and mean, and other days where I might cry over spilled milk and cereal, and there will be days that we don't do anything and I will feel like a failure. And days where the kids tell me I'm the worst.

There will be the day that finally comes where my life won't be my own anymore.

And my body won't be my own.

And maybe it really is about enjoying what we do have

Here

And now.

And maybe I should be ok if God continues to answer my prayers in ways I don't expect or necessarily want.

pick yourself up and get on with it

It's possible that at times I am a masochist.

Feeling pain reminds us that we are alive.

And it helps us enjoy the good parts all the more.

Some times, though, I need to fall apart and just cry.

My mother always emphasized the fact that we need to allow ourselves time to grieve.

Grieve over a lost love, a lost day, a lost dream.

But grieve.

I remember a day seven years ago when I found myself sobbing in my room, in the apartment of my brother's where I lived that summer.

I was heartbroken over Riley.

I was barely 19.

But as I lay in the depths of despair, my brother came into my room and said "Cry, and then let's go get some ice cream."

All I could sputter out was an ok, because well, I could never say no to ice cream.

But that has become one of my philosophies in life (no, not never saying no to ice cream, although that kind of is my number one rule) but rather just feel it.

Feel the pain and sorrow all within and about you. And then pick yourself up and get on with life.

Grant yourself that small bit, but don't lose yourself in it.

Feeling great sorrow allows us to feel great joy.

to be thought of

What's it like to be thought of?

I know in my daydreams I imagine conversations, moments in time and how I want them to go.

Other daydreams involve more intimate moments, hands touching. Kissing.

When someone says they've been thinking of me, do they mean the same thing?

Do they daydream of future days spent in bed together?

Or adventures, hiking boots strapped tight, soaking wet from rain. Miserable together?

Are they good thoughts? Indiscreet? Warm?

Is there love and respect somewhere lost in the folds?

this is not one to trifle with

It's been a rough couple of days.

A song line keeps playing over and over again in my head, "when you think of love do you think of pain."

I openly admit to the fact that I am not perfect.

This weekend I realized how disgustingly bossy I can be, especially when frustrated. I can be snide and quick to anger at times; sarcasm flowing from me like a molten river of destruction.

There are times when I am not kind, when I am too stubborn and proud to admit my mistake or own ignorance.

Other times when I am so blindly selfish I do not realize the hurt or pain I cause to those around me, most especially the ones I love and the ones I am meant to help.

Jacob and I had an interesting conversation the other night, in which these two thoughts came to me:

1. I am tired of being selfish. I want someone else's problems to deal with and I want someone to help me deal with my problems.
2. We date to fall in love.

I've grown weary of friends calling to update on life and their first question always posed to me: "Are you dating anyone?" When do they start asking me about my writing, or my babies? Oh duh, I don't have any babies.

I don't date to get married. I'm looking to fall in love, marriage tends to just follow...

Marmee and I spoke last week. She told me my brother's concern was that I was desperate to be married and that because of that I was driving the men away.

I wrote to my sweet younger sister, serving a religious mission in California following that conversation and I write here some thoughts I shared with her. Please bear with me, it's the most exposed I have been:

"Marmee and I spoke the other day. She mentioned my brother's worry about my need for the next guy I date to be the one, but how can they worry about that and then turn around and stress the importance of marriage and its influence in our faith?

I have such a lovely belief that in the end it is only the two of you: your children will have their own spouses, and their children will have their own, and so on.

No, you cannot take the search for an eternal partner lightly, and no marriage does not solve any problems. It is only a new set, and I may one day miss having the struggles of single-hood. But how often I feel such a strong desire to be in love and to give of all this love I have.

I think loving someone is one of the most sacred, beautiful things - the ability to love unconditionally  might be one of the rare times we come to being Godlike.

So then why am I judged for wanting to fall in love? Why am I looked at as a crazy heathen for it? For speaking of it so often?

My patience is wearing thin. I feel my prayers becoming more and more shallow and small. I know that I will find someone I love and who loves me, but when? Why have I not been blessed with something I so righteously desire? What more can I possibly learn?

I hear the voice inside my head tell me the cure for my loneliness: service. Yet sometimes I do feel that there is a tiny little hole that can only be cured by the loving touch of someone you love embracing you. And I am ok with that thought."

I finally called Sol.

I told myself back in May that I would give him the summer.

As of today, summer is over.

He wasn't sure how he felt about meeting up, so he will be dropping my things off later this week.

I expect the worst, yet I'm not sure I would even want the best at this point.

My fight was ignored.

All those small feelings that could have been something so much more never had a chance to grow.

I was never acknowledged.

No thank you was ever given for the small tokens I gave.

I deserve more, do I not?

I want to believe that I only seek closure. An explanation, even a bogus one might sate my need.

I think I just need to hear it. To hear that there is no chance fall from his lips and allow me to completely and finally walk away.

And no longer feel the need to hope or even want it anymore.

But if that is so, why do I still dream of him kissing me so firmly and intentionally?

I do not know where to begin or end. So many tiny thoughts are erupting inside of me.

Words dance about in my head as I think about love and the future.

Where has this excited wonderment approached from? Such tender feelings toward someone I hardly know make me wonder how desperately determined my heart is to fall in love.

But is that aching desire something to be so ashamed of?

Oh no! Love is all inspiring. Should we not be praised for our wish to give all to another human being? Does not loving another soul bring us closer to being godlike?

Seeing past all imperfection, loving unconditionally despite sins and mistakes? Taking someone for all that they are: the rashness, innocence, folly and insecurity, passion and forgetfulness.

It cannot be a dreadful thing to want love so fiercely. And it must be accepted that love truly is the way to happiness.

Oh even just the idea of it makes me feel as if my body does float above the ground. Tingling with such ardor.

Is not loving someone a way of giving them wings? To know you are loved, that someone has so severely and wonderfully latched themselves to you forever gives one such a feeling of security and vigor. That anything is possible, even the chance to defy gravity and all laws of physics and soar above the earth.

What delight there is to know of a force so perfect in the world that it not only grounds us with sturdy foundation but also opens the heavens of flight for our souls.

What silliness, I know, but never have I been so eager as to say those three words to someone (when all the timing is right) and put their heart at ease as I confirm to them my ever-present desire to be theirs and have none else, as they so earnestly feel for me.

Oh what exuberance, what youthful folly has slipped into my blood. Such excitement for thoughts and feelings unknown, so premature in nature yet so intentional in purpose.

Though such tiny seeds have been planted, I yet find myself embraced in excitement. The same kind I feel as I get to that part in a book where one must flip through to the end, begging for a glimpse of a word or sentence that confirms that all hope is won and love has conquered all.

But oh the journey there is just as delicious and I find myself longing to be in the middle of it, rather than the beginning. To be past the divide between the sure unknown and the birth of emotion and love.

Oh that I could jump that chasm and fall into the arms of assurance and routine. To find my hand constantly lost in his. My name breathless on his sleepy lips, our lives so clumped together that to unwind ourselves would create a mess and be foolhardy.

Oh to have that all again - dreams that we've painted together with the hope of our words. A future built with sacrifice and frustration and the knowledge that without one another we would cease to exist.

A phone call.

A text.

A message.

An email.

A letter.

A single word.

Anything would have been better than nothing.

crush

Oh what ticklish frenzies bubble up in my skin when that seed of possibility is planted.

Daydreams of stolen kisses and chance meetings are feasted upon as the day's hours pass on.

This idea, this delicious hope of...something...fed with tiny slivers of bashful maybe's. Blushing behind hands of timidly needed affection, teasing the mind with thoughts of brushing fingertips.

Memories of school-girl embarrassment envelope our bodies into a renewed, awkward jumble of limbs and gaits and nervous laughter.

Glimpses of him from across the room, eyelids fluttering with conscious fervor.

Knowing that any chance is held within his grasp, far from the control of my slender fingers.

Content though in that knowledge, willing to stake time and affection on lady luck in this crowded room.

Foolishly walking toward abandoned territory, praying that when our eyes meet they both flicker with mischievous wonderment of having a childish crush.

Come on skinny love, just last the year

image via

last night + the wind

Golden stalks of grass quiver as purple clouds float across the pink streaked sky.

Tiny mushrooms bloom at my feet as my toes sink into the fresh planted sod.

As I sat on the rickety, wooden chair in the middle of the lawn, my wet hair teased dry by the warm wind of July, I got lost.

Rogue fire crackers cackled a few houses down as I set my head back and watched the leaves of the trees dance across a power-line trapped sky.

If I was not human I would want to be the wind for she is both dangerous and wonderful.

Her voice is powerful, most often bringing an ominous cry of change.

Something is coming.

She pulls in darkness, pushes forward light.

She brings fresh air and storm clouds heavy with rain to wash all clean.

She teases our hair and tugs at our clothes telling us to look and behold.

Look there - look here.

Look everywhere at what has been created for you.

She never boasts of herself. Her movements always place another in front - the coming thunder, the majestic trees, the forgotten sun, the missing moon.

Her story is forever attached to another's - the pages of a book that rustles, whispering of the secrets inside.

She is strong and gentle.

Elusive, yet tangible.

Beautiful and mischievous all wrapped into one.

I kissed him on the cheek because I felt the forehead wouldn't do. But oh, how I do love forehead kisses.