Tuesday, January 8, 2013

7777 More Day Dreams

Here's a story, concerning and containing a wish, that an average working class girl made, on a lonely afternoon at the office...

She was just sitting there at her corner office desk, watching Swoozie vlogs on youtube, trying to wretch her spirits from a dark and lonely abyss. She was plugged in and zoned out, numb to the absolute solitude that lurked all around her. She had finally shut up her worrying mind by binding it with head-phone cord, and feeding it the distraction of comic vibes. The thunder of the 80's area 5.0 Mustang's breath ripped her from her zombie land. The spin of the office chair beneath her aided the snap of her vision from the computer screen to the window behind her. Framed in glass was a scene she had waited for every moment since 11:30 that morning (it was then 3:30) to play out. The Stang was on a shine, as it stopped out front and it's driver side door opened like the up beat of a single dragon wing. Before the down beat could occur, she had already yanked the buds from her head with on hand, one motion, one purpose, and dashed around her desk to the big wooden front door, an inch thick with the oval antique latch. For a scary thousandth of a second, she feared he would not be behind the door, that it was only a schizophrenic day dream that make her see him at all.  But fears soon flew far from her pretty little head as instantaneously as they had fleetingly come. His door slammed, and hers was flung inward on its big black metal hinges,welcoming, in the late November wind, and him. Her lip curled and quivered like a new born faun, as tears of joy stood on tiptoe on the rims of her yes, not quite daring to fall. Her arms stretched vectorisly for her savior as he ran for their vertex; her heart her soul, her very self.  He reached her, and it was as the joining of two forces, each movable by nothing, save by the energy of one another. His arms around her middle, hers around his neck, the clutch of vise grips would not have been tighter. They held each other, or maybe time and the very essence of simply existing was what was holding them...hostage...either way, they were not held long enough. There was only time for two soft sobs to escape from deep within her chest, and an exchange of "I love you's" before he was attempting to loose her clasping fingers from his back, and hold her away from him. At first she was confused and would not give a faction of her arms length to make space between them. "Why does he want me to let go?" she mauled the worrisome thought until it was a shredded mass of goo, so only a fraction of a moment too long. Suddenly it occurred to her, "He just wants to kiss me!" She unburied her face from his shoulder, raised her lips to his, and they kissed for the the first time over a was so passionate, it might as well have been their first time ever. This first kiss lingered, long, slow, pure. When finally its conclusion came, this first osculation was fittingly proceeded by 7777 more smaller delicate little pecks scattered across the faces of the lovers by each. In that moment nothing else mattered. They, him and her, were water droplets that had been separated by a harsh storm or a cruel cruel current, but in the very trice they were rejoined, no human could determine one from the other. When the exchange of kisses slowed, he knelt down, smiling and gazing into her glassing eyes, hugged her legs and gently picked her up (as if she could be any higher than she already was; her mailing address, cloud 9). The laughter that emanated, and bubbled from what seemed to be the deep part of her soul, was that of untainted excitement and joy, as spun her around, and around the openness of the hard wood beneath his feet. He then brought her down from her place in the heavens, and when she lighted again on the hard floor in front of her knight, he threw another 7000 some more kisses onto her fairy like personage. He took her slender left hand in his muscular, and work worn right he lead her in a slow dance right there, in her small front room office. All alone, she was the only one working that day. But he could not stay long. They walked out into the biting afternoon air. Goosebumps of passion and cold spayed across her thin arms (she only wore skimpy quarter length sleeves on her little brown jacket). They kissed one last time and said their "I love you, bye"'s. He climbed into he car, she blew him a kiss, and catching her, he blew one back. Their time was short, but as she skipped back inside, she jumped out of bliss and quietly screamed to the ceiling, "Thank You, God! Thank You, God!"

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Chapstick Confessions

I opened up the passenger side door to my baby, a red 92 stang with rust patches and faded paint. I then hoisted my book bag onto the passenger seat and started to dig through my purse like my very life depended on it, down past my wallet, sun glasses, lotion, nail care kit, and a bunch of pencils void of lead. But I couldn't find the one thing that would sooth my lips from the harsh wind burn and dryness caused by nerves. My nails finally locate my skin tone shade of Baby Lips, hitting against the familiar plastic tube. I put on a quick but liberal gloss and then tossed the life saving chap stick back into the cluttered abyss from witch it came. Then I spun on my toes and in the same motion, closed my car door behind me with a loving slam. Half skipping, half running, I rounded the front bumper of my boy friend's truck and stopped on both feet to keep myself from falling into him. He had just put on his blue tented shades (which I love) and a dark colored baseball hat that he wore backwards (a style I laughed at him for sporting). We stood between his truck and the tracks and talked for all of 30 seconds before he again reminded me of the curfew I wanted so badly to ignore. "Better if you get home early," he said not wanting me to aggravate my parents or speed while trying to make up time lost. The irritating thing was...I knew he was right and he was being more responsible than I was being at the time. So in agreement that I really did have to leave, I fell into his open arms and hugged him around the ribs like maybe I just might not get to see him again. I kissed his jaw, which was unshaved (just the way I like it), and then I tilted my lips to his and we melded together, even if it was only for one chap stick iced moment.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

The Smell of Spring

         There are so many beautiful things in this life, which typically go unnoticed by the average human being. Just the other day, I was taking my lunch tray up to the trash cans to dump the left over remnants of sludge (my school lunch), when I passed the exit leading to the courtyard. For some reason not yet disclosed to myself, the doors where flung completely open, letting in a misty excess from the down poor occurring outside. The mist enveloped me and the cool drops could be felt lighting on the bare skin of my scrawny arms. Then the most lovely and familiar smell caused me to turn my head toward the door, close my eyes, and saver the sent. It was the smell of spring; a blend of newly budding flowers, sprouting grass, mud and the rain that created it all. It has to be my favorite smell in the entire world and I anticipate it's first coming every April. I yell to my friends to share in my new found experience, but upon arriving at the door, they only complained that they were getting wet. They don't know what I know.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Today the birds are singing

As I walked up the wide, straight, unforgiving, concrete pathway to the entrance of Seymour High this morning, I dreaded what Monday would hold for me in its iron clutches. Outside, it was muggy and the wind was whipping up anything it could, tossing it about. The gray clouds, moving as one dark blanket, threw large white raindrops like healing bombs to the earth. I held my head down, shielding the lenses of my Ted Baker eye wear from the wet which would surely obstruct  my view. At that moment, a choir of birds songs touched my ears. The sound was so happy and melodious, despite the unideal conditions of the Indiana weather. Hearing those birds' greeting made me smile to myself and think, 'Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.' Because today, the birds are singing. Just thought I would share that with you.