Just a Thought

Fact: I am still very much single. Because this is just a story, not any kind of representation of my life. Stories are like that: we tell falsehoods but no one gets mad. Because some of us are born to be the voices of others, and some of us just occasionally pretend that we are. Anyway, enjoy a short Saturday story.

– Melissa Continue reading

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to you, my __________

I miss you today. With the swirl of holiday joy about me, your absence is keenly felt.

But who is ‘You’?

You on its own is just an empty pronoun.

You are the ‘friend’ who wasn’t, who I had to walk…no, run away from but who still haunts my thoughts at unexpected moments. And I wish things had worked out differently. And I wish I could just text you to say, ‘hey.’ Safe doesn’t mean easy. Safe doesn’t mean desirable.

You are that feeling of absolute abandon, when the game ceased to be a game and became life and somehow that skinny child was a horse and somehow I really was a world famous horse breeder and somehow we really did win all kind of ribbons and trophies and acclaim without ever leaving our corner of the yard. Growing up has had its benefits. But imagination free of self-consciousness was pretty great too.

You are four legs and a mane and a tail and all the mass of muscles in between. Kind eyes and soft nose and a shoulder to cry on. You’re an idiot, and you’re afraid of everything, but this semester has been so long without you, and the three days until I see you again seems an eternity, and there’s a little pang in my heart when I know that you haven’t missed me. Not really. But there will be adventures together in the next month and I’ll pretend that another goodbye isn’t in our future.

You are laughter in the safety of camaraderie, that feeling of belonging among people, of simple blissful rightness. The too-late nights and the afterward wondering if we’d squeak in by curfew. The radio volume that should have deafened us but only made us giddy. I keep hoping I’ve tasted something here akin to our friendship. I’ve found friends, but not friends; not soul-siblings.

You are someone I’ve never met. Someone Mom used to tell me will love me more than Daddy does—and that’s gonna be pretty hard to accomplish. And let me tell you what, Christmas-time of all times reminds me that you’re not here. Don’t believe me? Listen to any Christmas song. If it’s not about a baby in a manger, then nine times out of ten it’s about you. You may not be All I Want For Christmas, but I do miss you, somehow, deeply, despite your unfamiliarity. And some days I look at the mess of me and wonder how you could even exist, how I could have a future that involves a ‘me’ being united into a ‘we.’

You are the stars. Pure and simple. A galaxy-filled sky to lose my eyes in and whisper my fears to. The campus is too bright to find you here. And Colorado was too full of…other things. I don’t even know what exactly. But I miss you and your light, and I’ll try to carve a bit of the next month to come and reacquaint myself to you. Do you remember me? Or have you been watching me all along, hiding in a seemingly dark sky?

You are my best friend. And texts and phone calls and Skype don’t begin to do our friendship justice. You remind me to keep my chin up and somehow know when my eyes fill with tears. Even though you shouldn’t possibly be able to know. You hear all my schemes and nod with silent willingness and get dragged into all kinds of mischief. Your loyalty blows my mind and pushes me to be a better person. And I don’t know how our story ends, because life seems intent on keeping us in different states for a while. But I know that someway it’ll all work out. I cling to that. I cling to the God that brought us to meet each other. And twenty-eight days is just enough time for us to get into real trouble.

All in all, I miss you. Achingly much. I guess all the emotions of the end of finals and the end of this semester and the idea of being home in just a few days decided that they wanted to express themselves in tears of longing. But I feel better. At least a little better. Even with the missing still there.

Maybe I’ll get to see you again. And maybe I won’t. Maybe sometimes there’s no room for maybes. Maybe I need sleep.

You seems such an empty pronoun.

But it’s so much more than that.

– Melissa

cloud people

Let me preface this by saying that this is not a political statement of any kind. This is not a theological statement. It’s just a story that I happened to write tonight. Please don’t hold me responsible for whatever views you might read into this, because they’re your inventions and maybe not what I meant at all. I only share for the reason I share anything: to invite you along as I do life, which tonight involved writing fiction about a race of people in the clouds.

Blessings,
Melissa Continue reading