Thoughts at Sunrise

She is young.

She admires the night sky;

Listens to Elliott Smith with a candle lit, and fancies herself in New York

Or maybe London

…Perhaps she'll stay in Kansas

It doesn’t matter because

She is young.

Her hair is too straight.

Her eyes are too dark; her bones impossibly thin.

She is restless

In the way that only a too-quiet girl from a loud small town

Can be

She's older now;

Determined, but still surprised, 

To be a woman who understands that she is responsible for so much more

Than just her own life

…And even if she isn’t

It doesn’t matter because

She's older now.

Her hair is still straight

Her eyes a softer brown, flecked with the slightest gold 

She is restless

In the way that only a too-earnest girl in a make believe world

Can be

Pause

Rainy mornings, I drink them in
Like a young child swallowing bath water

...Unapologetically


                       And with a Cheshire grin.

The above picture is simply a moment I want to remember. A snapshot of a slow, easy morning in which everything sort of fell into place...or it didn't, but we were too peaceful to notice or care, really. We accomplished very little except listening to the rain's music on the rooftop, sipping hot chocolate, and feeling a togetherness that is far too often overshadowed by our busy, hopeful lives. I always feel sentimental when it's raining. I think rain has that kind of effect on people...particularly people who have no need to leave the house, of course, but I still think there is much to be appreciated even when you're out in the rain running errands or working. I've always thought it strange that metaphorically speaking, a rainy day is something of a "this too shall pass"; something to make us appreciate the clear skies a little more. We are just so anxious for that next fleeting moment, aren't we? 


I have this theory that perhaps rain is the most honest part of nature...and that is why we always seem to be waiting for the sun.

Superbia

I once had a good friend who wrote me a letter I wasn’t ready to read. She told me that I have the potential to do extraordinary things with my life, but I’m not always right; I was wrong then and needed to understand that. The argument was very personal. I responded bitterly and held pride’s hand as I watched that bridge quickly burn, until it disappeared altogether.

Once, a well meaning young man with a poor sense of timing asked me a question that has haunted me ever since: “Danielle, why can’t you ever just say what you mean?” He went on to criticize my way of dancing around the truth, accusing me of being honest with just about everyone but myself (which if you think about it really just makes me a big fat liar because one can only account for what one believes in, right?). I didn’t have a solid explanation for him then, and I still wouldn’t today. The words that I spoke were unkind, but I hope he is doing well.

I once awoke in the night several times before accepting that I wasn’t going to get any sleep. I shook off the covers, poured a drink, and stood out on the back porch wishing I still smoked. A moth whipped past me and I swear I heard God whisper, “Child, you are looking in all the wrong places.” I stepped back inside, angrily deciding not to give thanks for the rest of the year.

I suppose there are certain truths about oneself that are better left buried.