I wish I was better at juggling a full-time job, a part-time job, my own writing projects, and posts for this blog, but alas, it is a work in progress!
I don’t know how some people do it! But I’d rather have fewer posts, than many posts that are lower quality. It’s something that I’m definitely working on, though. 🙂
Anywho, I watched Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood on Netflix last night, and was inspired to write this poem. Maybe I’m just overly emotional right now, but for some reason I was feeling all reflective, and melancholy at the same time and this is what I came up with:
My friends Christina, Jackie, and Me (in the middle) at age 11, or 12. Taken before I had a digital camera, of course!
We lay there in a tent made of fake canvas; it smelled like dirt and plastic and camping
and somehow I knew this would be one of the last times we would really spend together,
the three of us bunched up together on that old blow up mattress
But it wasn’t evident from the stars that twinkled down on our faces,
Or the crickets that chirped and sang…
We were alive and we were beautiful and young,
and nothing ever got its way in our paths.
I remember asking, when did you think we would die?
How someone went silent and then, “I never really thought about it much.”
How I replied: “I think I’ll go young. It’s not like I want to, but I never really saw myself doing much. I can’t picture my future.”
I remember silence and the crickets were humming and I’m sure there were lightning bugs, too, (there’s always lightning bugs).
Then someone takes a breath and we’re talking about Twilight, and school and boys and how remember that time you fell in the creek, and someone was clever enough to snap a picture?
Now I look back and wonder if anyone ever knows the future? And if they do, don’t they know it is more like a journey, best imagined sometimes an adventure, but always survived.
One minute it’s there, and the next minute gone. A feeling like a breath, an instant, a tear drop, a thought.
Gone with last night’s breeze and this morning’s rough chill.
Sometimes it takes a whole minute to hold onto something, but it takes only a second to realize what it is, and then it’s gone.