a Home has many Houses

these days I don't belong just any one place - it's who I'm with, where I'm headed, who I love.

like Guy's Night, when you go by Kyle, because girls aren't allowed, so you eat pheasant and drink beer, and talk about toilet seats

it's someone else's mom calling you Daughter, because she remembers you at 9 years old, your awkward phases, and all the nights you spent at her house

or laying half asleep in a pile of friends, the kind of people you never doubt yourself with, because who you are, right now... they love

Sometimes, my feet, they ache for roots, for consistency,
but I can't help but recognize how blessed I am,

to find a Home in so many Houses.

best part

Everyday they line up,
two rows
and I walk inbetween
passing out high fives
"have a good day"
"bye bud"
"be good!"

Little hands,
lifted up,
silly grins,
just for me.

It's crazy, but work is the best part of my day..

Hope is Wrinkled

Sometimes, I feel like I'm supposed to be the poster child for Hope.
   wish you'd never gotten out of bed?
      smile.
    fighting that weight on your chest?
      smile.
    wondering why you aren't enough yet?
      smile.

Because you're healed, remember Kylee? You have Hope.
Hard days are for people who don't know any better.

But if I were the kind of girl to tell secrets - I'd let you in on this:
Sometimes... I get tired of Hope.

It starts to feel like a set up. Hope takes vulnerability. And vulnerability is an open door to getting hurt.
And we both know that is not my style. Risk and I? We don't mix.

It's in those moments I catch myself grabbing Hope out of the air and crumpling it into my palm. "You are not allowed," I say, and throw it into the corner.

It sits there for a day or two, before I can't ignore the fact, that as difficult as having Hope is - without it, my life is empty. And I crawl over and pick it up, brush off the dust, smooth out the wrinkles, my mouth twisting with determination.

Turns out, Hope isn't perfect. just like me.

suspended

throw your heart up 

in the air

and it may decide not to

come back down.

sometimes you just wait,

until you know what you're waiting for. 

Nostalgia

the kiss,
a yellowed bruise
on her
collar bone,
fading
like forgotten promises.



i'm having one of those days, where i miss everything that was, remembering it as something magical, when really, at the time, it probably wasn't. sigh.

Small, Concrete

"I prefer to explore the most intimate moments, the smaller, crystallized details we all hinge our lives on. "

-Rita Dove

It's funny how I either think

in images

or purely words.

Never both.

A heart can't speak

two langauges simultaneously

you know.

This week's been

confusing

so I spend my time

writing about small, concrete

things.

it anchors me.



Success

I finally figured out how to do a fishtail braid...turns out it's pretty easy -- when you're doing it with two strands like you're supposed to, and not three. I take forever to learn things, because I have to do it over and over until I get it, so I'm pretty proud of myself! Besides, it gave me something to do in class today ;)

Also, I joined the Y. And went shopping for healthy food. I'm terrified of working out in public, so this is kinda a big deal guys! Eating healthier has been a goal from like, oh, last year (ha), but I think it'll be a good change.

Being the best you can be, you know? That's success.