Sign on the door of a church I passed this morning:
“Heaven is no trick, and Hell is no treat.” (the capitalization is theirs, not mine)
I’ll be celebrating with chocolate pumpkin cupcakes (with cream cheese icing), candy corn, the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, and the new episode of House.
I had been awake for hours, folding myself into the blankets and cushions. Her door creaked open and she bounded (were you expecting ‘padded’? she never pads) across the room, climbing over me and squeezing herself between me and the back of the couch. I wiggled to accommodate. She threw her arm around me and snuggled, and I was no longer 21, turning 22 that day, but 9, snuggling with my best friend on the bed in the spare room in her basement. The spare room that just last night had been full of shadows and darkness, but this morning was flooded with light and laughter and whispers.
“Looks roomy,” he commented from the futon. “It is,” I replied, eyes still closed. We had years of fitting into small spaces together behind us (wedged into the crook of a tree branch where we pretended to be pilgrims, both of us on a swing that barely moved despite our wriggling, sharing a twin bed at sleepovers, huddling in one coat to keep warm after school).
I could have stayed like that all day, dozing, her head resting against my back or shoulder, her hair tangled with mine. Sleeping seems like the only time she can sit still.
This was what I needed. Because if I listened in between the hugs and laughing fits and speed talking, I heard what I had been waiting years to hear: “I love you best.”
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
e.e. cummings
According to Wikipedia:
October 22, 4004 BCE – The day the universe was created according to British scientist James Ussher after using the Bible’s chronology to calculate the date.
Further proof that the world does, in fact, revolve around me.
I’m back from Dallas, with no pictures to show for it because sadly my camera has died.
I have only one word about the Project Runway Finale: ULI. That is all.
Crunchy leaves. Chilly wind. Pumpkins in any form. Apple cider. Red, orange, yellow, brown. Scarves. Tall boots. Stockings and socks. Puffy vests. Pecan pie. Blue skies. Bundling up. Long walks. Thanksgiving. Sweaters. Hot cocoa. Soup. Cold cheeks. Layering. Packed bookstores. Wasting a day in a coffee shop. Oatmeal. Football. Dark nail polish. Bittersweet chocolate. Fires with real wood. Pancakes with syrup and confectioners sugar. Muffins. Baked goods. Hot Grape Nuts with banana. Blankets. Smores. Pine cones. Roast chicken with potatoes and rosemary. Apples and caramel. Halloween. Orchards. Corn field mazes. Wagon rides. Warm bread, crusty on the outside, soft on the inside. Grilled cheese. Graham crackers. Fudge. Cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla. Rushing into a store while the leaves follow you in. Coats, collars, corduroy.
Who says American’s have short attention spans? I just spent 3 minutes of my life watching a turtle walk down stairs. He almost gives up there for a moment…oh wait, I don’t want to ruin the ending.
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