In the summer of ’58,

rain fell harshly in late July,

bringing white sand under my feet

into a squishy quicksand feeling,

and the odor of tall Carolina pines,

catch your senses quickly.

As a boy loving the outdoors,

I relished this downpour,

the inherent feeling of freedom

as I was drenched beyond mere wetness.

Running crazily,

not watching the path taken,

half sunk in the sands murky depths

laid a trap …

an empty, open pork and bean can.

My toe, its sharpness, met.

I could hear Grandma calling.

She heard my hawk-piercing scream.

Tears mixed with rain salted my cheeks

as I bravely hobbled to her house,

into her waiting arms.

Rain continued to beat the air savagely,

slamming like small fists on the tin roof;

like nails driven into wood.

it was relentless.

Thunder reigned supreme.

Lightning screamed around us,

lighting up a frightening black day.

I shivered in Grandma’s warmth,

her arms holding me, protecting me,

as she always did.

Tears subsided as she washed away blood and sand.

Taking a warm cloth, she eased away my pain.

With a kiss to my toe and a band-aid,

she said a prayer,

asking God to make things right.

Finished, she hugged me again,

saying she loved me.

Shortly after, the rain stopped.

So did the pain in my toe.

Grandma always knew what to do.

**********

The above photo is my grandmother

who passed away in 1983.

Not a day goes by

where I remember that storm, her prayer,

and my toe no longer hurting,

I was all of 10 1/2 then.

Dance in the garden each morning

And sing in the afternoon

Clock in as the sun awakens

And clock out beside the moon.

Work with a love of working

And work at a lighthearted pace

Seize what the world has to offer

While appreciating its grace.

Explore what needs exploring

And just for the joy of it, fly

Join in the hum of the hive

And twirl a new path through the sky.

Be grateful for every flower

Each one a soft Monet

Spread love to the gently buzzing hive

All together, a yellow ballet.

I wrote this 3 years ago, so cheating on the challenge, but I wanted to share because I think it's the happiest thing I've ever written and I still really like it :)

As I was biking home from cross country practice today, I stopped at the store to get some goat milk. I am forever disorganized and didn't know that I had enough change, so I told the cashier I'd check.

Surprise, I did not.

I was about to go put it back when the lady packing up her groceries in front of me turned around and said she'd pay for it. I thanked her for the offer, and reassured her that my house was close by and I could just go home and get more money.

"I'll get it for you. People do nice things for me."

So she bought my milk. I thanked her and thanked her while the amused cashier added it to her card. I took my milk, thanked her again for good measure, and told her I'd pass on the nice things.

So, random strangers, if an awkward, friendly teenager with a messy braid and dressed in many layers of clothing tries to do something nice for you, you can thank the lady who bought her goat milk ;)

Do you ever wonder if someone will read your words?

If when the sky falls and the rain burns,

Someone will sit and speak them out loud,

Fruitlessly hoping,

That they will escape the terror that holds the world in a vice?

Or maybe they will be scrolling through the old archives,

Sipping coffee and wrapped in a fluffy blanket,

Imagining a world so unlike their own?

Or maybe it will be someone like me.

They will find it through chance as they trip,

Sending papers flying.

Only to pick them up one by one,

And realize,

Sometime,

Somewhere,

Someone,

Was a little bit like them.

And will find peace in the idea,

That they are never truly alone.

"perfection's the best,

perfection's the key."

to that i say no,

perfection is yours to see.

you can choose your own life,

your style's your own.

no one's stopping you,

i'll be your stepping stone.

go at your own pace,

i know that you can;

don't hold yourself back,

i'll be your biggest fan.

supporting you always,

i'm here by your side,

call me whenever

if you need to confide.

you're talented and smart,

kind and you're wise;

beautiful and melodic,

you forever will rise.

so let it be known,

scream as loud as you wish,

that no one is holding you back,

and you love your ever blemish!

I have two cats, named Bullet and Bowie. They are the epitome of endearing entertainment and ridiculousness. I inherited Bullet from some friends and he is unlike any cat I've ever met. In fact, he's more like a dog. He listens and obeys, loves car rides, and will go on walks with us. He is very active, loves to play and will even join in on a form of "hide n seek." I will run and hide somewhere and he will come looking for me. When he finds me, I pop out and he runs away, and we do it all over again. The shape of Bullet's brow makes him look permanently grumpy, but he's a sweetheart. Bowie is my other cat. He got his name after I posted on social media asking for advice on what name to give him. David Bowie had just recently passed and someone suggested naming him after the legend, so I did. The name is fitting because this cat is a space cadet and many of David Bowie's songs reference space. "Major Tom" comes to mind. He doesn't listen and obey as well as his brother, but I think it's because he's somewhere in the cosmos most of the time. Bowie will often sleep with his mouth half-open and his head tilted back. It looks hilarious in person. He is also lazy and prefers to sit back and watch his brother wig out from catnip. The funny thing about the two of them is how different they are with other creatures. Bullet is a softie. If he finds a spider in the house, he will lightly pat it and escort it across the room with careful focus. Bowie, on the other hand, is a cold-blooded murderer and will eat the spider then and there. They are my goofballs and they cheer me up when life is tough. I love them dearly and I enjoy their quirky personalities.

Eyelashes flutter as she looks at me from beneath them, and her upturned lips give flight to my heart’s wings. I can’t help but marvel at her beauty, windswept hair tumbling across her shoulders in beautiful waves of dissarray, hiding her brown eyes which sparkle with the complex emotions her intelligent-with-anything-but-emotions mind can never seem to fully verbalise. Softly, I place my fingers, delicate and long, under her chin.

“Are you sure you want to be here?” I ask. “I know it’s probably not easy... Considering what you’ve been through...” I interrogate her silently with my eyes, using the expression she always tells me is too intense. Her dark skin is warm under my fingertips, as her eyes look into mine, giving me the answer without her saying a word.

“You know what I’m going to say,” the beauty tells me. “I don’t know why you’re giving me that look.”

“I want to hear you say it, because I want to make sure you are one-hundred percent okay with being here.” She takes a step, back, but gathers my hands with her own smaller ones.

“I’m here for you.” She whispers. “I am more than okay.”

I laugh, pulling her hand up to my lips, and kissing her fingertips.

“Thank you. I love you more than you know.” I inform her, seriously, as she tries not to show she is affected by my words. Rolling her eyes, she drags me down the hallway, and I smile stupidly to myself, knowing she loves me, too, even if she would never tell me. She was never one for big declarations, but her assurance of being there for me was the closest I would ever get. God, I was lucky to have such a beautiful person at my side.

I am actually seeing something paranormal happening. Right now. Can’t believe I’m witnessing this. Where’s Mom? She'd LOVE this. No other explanation for that guy’s pocket. No way.

So Jack and me came down here to Safeway, right? We got this ritual. Gotta be careful who we tell. Folks’d think we’re NUTS. We’re buying licorice--red AND black, Beer Nuts, root beer. Jack’s got his Abba-Zabba. I got my Vernor’s. We’re gonna go back and watch Morton Downey, Jr. He comes on late night TV. The guy’s awesome.

Jorge is home cleaning his fish tank. He has African cichlids. One of his African cichlids was bigger than the rest. It used to pick on the other fish. Jorge nicknamed him “The King.” I went in Jorge's room to steal some socks this morning. Jorge was out cold still. He might have been hung from the night before. I noticed that his fish was dead. I scribbled onto a post-it THE KING IS DEAD and stuck it on the glass. He didn’t have a chance to clean the tank this morning. Yeah, he was hung probably. He went out with Ray last night.

So I just took Jack down here by myself. Safeway. It’s like three blocks.

But now we’re at the cash register, waiting in line to pay for this stuff, and there’s a old lady up there writin' a check, so I guess we’re stuck here for awhile.

And right in front of us there’s this dingy, blondy-long-haired guy in a baseball cap standing there holding his kid in his left arm. The kid is maybe two or three years old. No cart. He’s just gettin’ snacks like us. And some green Palmolive dish soap, and a 32 ounce Miller High Life. All his stuff is on the conveyor belt already. The guy’s got ripped-up blue jeans, and his back pocket has a hole in it. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Just a bit scuzzy, if you ask me. But here’s where it gets weird. Here's where the paranormal just kicked in.

Jack said, Rack ’em! so I turned around. It means he saw a hot chick. I looked for like two seconds. I didn’t think she was hot, so I turned back around. That’s when it happened. Now here we are. Mom would have a FIELD day with this.

You know those metal chains they have at the cash register? The ones they loop across when the check-stand’s closed? The ones with the metal hook?

I just looked at this guy's pants two seconds ago and they were normal. Hole in the right back pocket. No big deal.

But now the dude is SNAGGED. The chain with the hook on it is hooked up to the guy's back pocket. It's hooked right to where the hole is.

No way the guy’s kid could not have done it. He’s too little. I’d have seen it. Plus, the Dad’s holding the kid on the other side of him. No way Jack could have done it. He’s been behind me this whole time.

No earthly explanation for this. The guy’s pants are truly hooked up to that chain there, and it came from out of NOWHERE.

I gotta show Jack. But I gotta whisper it, or he might think WE did it.

I go, Hey Jack, check it out. That dude is SNAGGED.

Jack looks. Right where I'm pointing. He sees it all in an instant. The whole mysterious mystery.

The dude is snagged.

And right when Jack sees it, the old lady’s done finally, and the guy goes to take a step forward so he can pay for his stuff, but he gets yanked back by the butt. The chain yanks him back, butt first, and the kid’s head kinda does a bobble-head thing, and then the kid is looking down, and then the guy is looking, trying to turn around and figure it out, chasing after what's got him with one hand. He’s got his kid in the other. I give him the “Don’t look at me” look, because, hey, this is Mom stuff here. This is WAY out of MY league.

Jack tries for a second to stay and pay, but it's no good. He takes off for the back of the store, holding onto his stomach, cover over his mouth. He's got a problem with laughing if it gets to be too much, and this was WAY too much, especially when the guy went forward and got jerked back like that. That's when he really lost it.

I give up and follow. I catch up with him at the back of the store, leaning on the cold meat section.

What the hell did we just see? I say.

Jack can’t talk, he can only say, Oh, God, Oh my God, in between laughing too hard, and then, in between almost crying, going, Oh, oh, God, I can’t take it.

He tries, but even if he can control it, it just keeps coming back.

Dude, we gotta get outta here.

I know, he says. I know. Just gimme a minute. Oh, God. Oh, God, I can't take it.

That’s when I notice, his hands're empty.

Where’d you put the stuff? Where’s the BEER Nuts?

I don’t know, he says. I think I dropped them. Oh, God.

Paranormal activity, I say. Now we have to start all over.

1. Those who chew with their mouth open for the entire world to see and hear

Punishment: They are used as nutcrackers so as to put their annoying habit to some use

2. People who drive 40 in a 55 mph no passing zone

Punishment: Have to bunny hop everywhere they go

3. Those who make cookies and other delicious treats and eat them in front of you when they know you’re hungry and are trying to watch what you eat.

Punishment: They will forever be four hundred pounds and will never be able to taste anything they eat again

4. People that don’t wash their hands after using the restroom

Punishment: Forced to clean all the bathrooms in the world with Q-tips

5. The person/s who thought of those late night phone dating commercials

Punishment: Forced to relive the worst possible first date ever; every single day