There are roses in bloom everywhere when I am out running. The rose scented air--it makes me want to stop. It makes me want to sit down beside them and inhale the sweet perfumed scent until I've had my fill. I think there are some things you cannot get enough of and I think the scent of roses is one of them.
My son will soon be coming home for the summer. Every time I speak to him, he tells me that he misses home and can't wait to get back to us. I try not to think about all the ways in which life changes for me and all the ways in which life stays the same. I try not to think about the chaos that will inevitably reign supreme here once everyone is home again. I tell myself that I am home to someone. I tell myself that I am someone's home.
I used to live by the ocean and miss it every day. I want to sit in front of the ocean again and listen to the waves crash one after another forever. I want to dig my feet into the cool, white sand that feels like a kiss. I want to search for shells. I feel like I belong there. I never feel like I belong anywhere.
There's a courthouse in the center of town that holds weddings on the weekends. Each time I pass by, I am tempted to shout out to the couple that happily ever after is a lie. No one tells the truth about marriage, or maybe it's that when love is so new, the truth of love being lost, or love becoming less intense, or love simply dying cannot be imagined. You must live it to learn it, and so I keep my mouth shut and drive silently by. Who am I to begrudge them one blissfully ignorant day where love is the answer to everything?
I have secrets about me that I have never told anyone. I think my secrets say more about me than the things I'm willing to share.
I like the icing better than the cake.
The New Civil War
17 hours ago