Tribute to and 80 year old Grandpa

Grandpappy dear,
Turning 80 is no reason to fear.
People have told me that with age
Certain things may begin to fade.
However your rhyming ever will be true
So keep the couplets coming two by two.
These may in effect keep you young in mind,
Though not as much may be said of your behind.
Colorful vocabulary may too be at fault
For keeping your age in the eternal vault.
Consequently this new age should cause no fret
But just in case, I’ll be around to keep the rhyming up yet!

Running from her eyes

He'd run away. It had been such a long time, and he hardly ever looked back; he hardly remembered those days. Now they were staring right back at him in those eyes of hers. Why did she have to have those eyes? Eyes that were deep and longing. Eyes that held pain and anguish, like he'd only ever seen reflected in his own eyes when he looked at himself in the mirror. Her eyes scared him. Eyes filled with questions, searching for answers. Was this what she saw looking into his eyes. Did she ever find answers to her questions in his eyes they way he sometimes found in hers? Ultimately though he wasn't looking for answers to his questions, so much as he was looking for a place where it was okay to have unanswered questions; a place he didn't have to run from because he didn't have all the answers. That place didn't seem to be in her eyes, so he would start running...

All Along

Have you ever missed someone and you don't really know why?
Ever loved someone and you didn't know how to tell them?
What do you do when you feel so vulnerable, but they don't see?
How do you show them the way they make you feel?
The light shines through the window and catches his hair.
The tables around them are filled with chattering voices.
His eyes look deep into hers as if he is looking for something he still cannot find.
When in his eyes she finds all she will ever need.
Dinner conversation is dying out but he doesn't want things to end.
He tries to prolong the inevitable but there is no other way for things to be.
No matter how he tries he will never love her.
No matter how she tries she cannot ever let him in
to see that what he has been looking for has been there all along.

If I were a Red Sweater

There's a red sweater on my floor. It speaks to me and tells me a story of a life I haven't known. Sometimes when I try to imagine the things I might say if I were the same red sweater; they would be different. What would the red sweater say if it were me? Would it highlight the same areas of my story as I do? Would it tell of Latin and Greek and English and French, or would it choose to focus on the colors of my story - red, blue, Yellow, green, pink, black? Life looks very different in the eyes of a sweater. Suddenly my life is not a story of events, it is a catalog of simplicity and wonder much like a one year old's perception where time and events are not the center of focus, rather colors and sounds - blue sky, green grass, yellow sun, train, airplane, bird, Mom. It's amazing how life changes when you look through the eyes of a read sweater.

Rite of Passage?

I got carded tonight. I walked into a bar for a diet coke and a woman asked to see my ID. As I pulled it out and handed it over to the scanner, I felt a twinge in my stomach. I'm 21. This shouldn't have come as a great shock; after all, I have been 21 for 359 days already. I only have 6 days left of being 21, and yet, it wasn't until I handed that lady my horizontal driver's license that it really hit me; I am 21. And with that age comes quite a lot of life history. But, I am still just a baby. I have experienced over two decades worth of change and progress, yet ahead of me lies many more decades of upheaval and growth.

Sitting at the bar sipping my soda I felt out of place. I seemed too young to be able to sit there on that stool branded with the age of the black-lipped stamp on my wrist that seemed to scream to everyone there that I wasn't a wide-eyed 18 year old girl anymore. I was a card-carrying member of adult society, granted that stool as a result of my age. My age. 21 years of my age.

This time next week I will be 22. Life doesn't slow down for anyone; if you blink you just might miss it.

Last night I was at a party and someone asked me which of my skills was my favorite. I had to take a moment to think about it and then replied that I love that I can make an adventure out of anything. I learned that skill from my mother and grandmother. They had a way of making everything seem like it was glittering with magic and intrigue. I remember one section of my childhood when my mom was trying to make exercising seem more appealing, so she would put music on in the living room and make up dance routines with me and my little sister. We would dance and dance and laugh ourselves silly. We had so much fun.

I may have been a wee bit uncomfortable with my age tonight, but I at least could look back at the last 21 years and see adventure at every turn; somehow it makes it seem more real. There is no way a person could fit so much adventure in anything less than 21 fabulous years.

I am 21 as I quite deserve to be.

Goodnight, dear void.

More than it all

Smile, you're safe now. Laugh, I'm here now. I know you were frightened. I know you didn't know where to turn. But I'm here now;I will hold your hand. Feel my heartbeat against your chest and know that I'm not leaving you alone again. Speak the words you've kept hidden for so long; I am listening. Why were you frightened? Why were you running? Did you see something something out there in the world? What did you see? What did you hear? Breathe, you have time now to catch your breath. There is nothing behind you waiting for you to rest to seize you and drag you backwards in time. Live, nothing is stopping you now. Love, it is the key to everything in life. More than all of it, love.

Provo Tabernacle

The Provo Tabernacle caught fire. The inside was destroyed. Now it's going to be a new Temple for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I used to think my life was broken, or completely destroyed. Turns out sometimes you have to have your life fall apart completely before it can be rebuilt into something even better than its original form.

Just when I thought God had forgotten me entirely, I found He'd actually been keeping me closer at hand than ever before; I just had to open my eyes and see it.

He was building a Temple while I was crying over the burned Tabernacle.

Goodnight, dear void.