an erratic heart beat
fast paced breathing
and a non-stop smile
unable to wait
unable to act yet
but exercising patience
as best as I can
faces I remember
faces I’ve yet to meet
the same place as before
and yet new experiences,
new flavors and new friends
along with Mad Men-ness
will soon unfold
Bloggers In Sin City
the weekend of a year
a weekend of joy and laughter
that ends in happy tears
along with many friends
and even more crazy memories
Nothing to fear… right? ;)
dry the tears
wipe it all away
even if the eraser is worn
turn the page
begin a new story
even if there’s no outline
change the song
hum another spare tune
even if you think no one is listening
don’t ever forget
take it all in stride
even if it fights against you the whole way
it’s a precarious bridge to cross
the wood is splintering
water from the river slaps it
wearing it down straight
from the bottom up
creaking and crying
mixing with what’s below
steps muffled by sodden timber
cautious and yet ever careless
wanting to look back
not daring to cross
but walking to uncertainty
aches match the whine of wood
knowing what was behind
the final step is nearly here
and your name is called
the bridge firms beneath
but turning around means
going back to the mire
the place pain and pleasure combine
now you can’t step off the bridge
She’s the one I always look up to,
the one I know I can always turn to,
the one I can talk to about anything,
and the one that makes everything okay.
She’s one of the most compassionate people
that I’ve ever met, always putting others
before herself–and always smiling,
plus she’s the life of the party!
She’s the one that everyone can’t help but love,
the one who never fails to have good hugs,
the one who’ll poke fun but mean well,
and most of all, she’s my number one.
What do you do
When you’ve done all you can
And it seems like you can’t make it through
And what do you say when your friends turn away
You’re alone
Tell me what do you give
When you’ve given your all
And it seem like you can’t make it through
Well you just stand when there’s nothing left to do
You just stand
Watch the Lord see you through
Yes after you’ve done all you can
You just stand
Tell me what do you do
When you given your all and it seems
It seems you can’t make it through
Well you just stand
When there’s nothing left to do you just stand
Watch the Lord see you through
Yes after you do all you can
You just stand
Stand and be sure
And be not entangled
In bondage again
Stand and endure
God has a plan
God has a plan tell me what do you do
When you don’t know
And it seems like you can’t make it through
Through the storm
Through the rain
Through the hurt
I’ll through the pain
I’ll hold on
I’ll be strong
God will stand in
It won’t be long
After you’ve done all you can
You just stand
* * *
I’ve been obsessed with this song ever since Smash featured it
last week. I recommend looking it up and listening to it!
Free Write Friday Prompt for 5/11
You have been traveling by train in Europe. You wake to find that you’ve missed your stop and you are the last one aboard. You reach for your luggage in the hold above and as you pull it down a wallet (not belonging to you) falls out. You open it to find a large amount of cash…Tell me a story!
“Is anyone sitting here?”
A small face surrounded by what looks like a million cotton balls pokes her head inside my train cabin. Little bright eyes peep out from behind miniscule glasses and her skin, though wrinkly, is very plump. Her accent is definitely from some part of Scandinavia. Her vowels are just a tad too long, her consonants not hard enough and her words sort of meld together.
I shake my head at her. I boarded the train with no one; no one was supposed to join me. She comes in smiling with pursed lips. As she sits across from me, she holds her enormous purse on her lap while she rocks back and forth for a moment.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t want to tell this old lady that I’m going home to nothing, that I spent my whole inheritance on a trip throughout Europe to start over or that the attempt was a complete bust. Least of all, I don’t want to tell her what happened to the family that certainly isn’t waiting for me at home.
I don’t need her pity and I don’t need anyone. Not anymore.
“Did you hear me?” she asks, looking somewhat concerned.
Finally, I speak. “Yes, I heard you.”
She bounces back in her seat, pleased with herself. “Well?”
“I’m going back to America,” I say after as long of a pause I dare make. She squints her eyes suspiciously.
“You don’t sound happy,” she says simply. She’s right–I’m not happy. “What did you see in Europe?”
Holding back a snort, I smile.
“Everything.”And I’m not kidding. I really did see everything. Despite that, I got nothing out of it. It’s a harsh comparison, but it’s like thinking Disney Land is the most magical place in the world only to find it’s a dump. I wonder if that’s what happens when you lose everything.
She smiles in return. “Then why are you sad?”
Again, I don’t want to tell her anything. I don’t know this woman–heck, I’m lucky if I know myself on a good day. The hem of my too long and too loose shirt catches my attention. My fingers play with the fraying strings numbly.
“I couldn’t do what I came to do and now I have a flight to catch in Paris.”
That’s all I can bring myself to say. She surveys me for a moment. Her eyes pause on my baggie shirt and my tattered boots. They’ve lasted me this whole trip and I intend on finishing my trip with them. If anything, that could be an accomplishment since I accomplished nothing else in Europe.
“Will you help me?” she suddenly asks. I’m afraid to say yes, but I do anyway. She lifts her large snakeskin purse from her lap. “Will you help me put this up there?” She gestures to the rack above my head.
My relief is instant. She hands me the bag and I toss it up there. When I turn back around, she’s holding her hand out.
“Annaliese.”
I shake her hand.
“Lydia.”
She smiles gently. A yawn tugs at my mouth as I sit back down.
“Are you tired?” she asks.
I guess I kind of feel that way so I nod. Annaliese suggests that I take a nap and it’s hard not to take her suggestion. Perhaps sleep is what I truly need.
“Sleep.”
That’s all she says before I completely pass out.
* * *
A horn sounds and I startle awake. Annaliese has gone. It’s dark outside my window so I check my watch. 9:13.
Oh, shit…
I bolt out of my seat and make my way down the cart until I find a conductor. There’s nobody else around and I’m starting to think the train is heading back to some kind of depot somewhere in obscure Europe. About two cars away, I find a clerk. He appears startled by my brashness when I ask him where the hell the train is.
“We are about to arrive in Berlin, miss,” he says uncertainly.
Oh, no… Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no! I’ve not only missed my stop in Paris and my flight back to the U.S., but my train ticket only covers me from Rome to Paris. It doesn’t cover me from Germany and beyond. Trying not to arouse suspicion, I tell him thank you and return to my cabin. I close the doors behind me. The tears threaten to come down but I won’t let them. I stare at the ceiling to keep myself from crying. This usually works.
Then a reflection of some sort catches my eye above the luggage rack. When I reach up, my fingers graze something made of leather. My first thought is that Annaliese must have accidentally left her wallet behind. Then I notice a slip of paper with my name on it poking out of the side. I pull it out.
Lydia,
It’s not the end of the world. Things do get hard, but we can always fight our way above them. You are young–don’t give up yet. I hope this helps. I hope you had a nice sleep.
Annaliese
PS: After I return from Denmark in two days, you come visit me in Finland. I live on Tammio.
In the leather pouch, there’s a wad of Euros. I peel them apart and find that there’s over two thousand in the stack–that’s nearly four thousand dollars.
Oh, my… I cannot accept this! My first thought is to turn it in to someone on the train to mail to her while I try to work my way back to a flight back to America. Then I consider taking the money straight back to her on Tammio, wherever that is. That’s not a place I visited. Helsinki happened about two months ago. Plus I only stayed in Finland for about a couple of days, since I was more excited about Sweden.
Knowing my Swedish ancestry is largely what brought me to tour Europe to begin with. When I got there, however, disappointment settled in worse than ever. It turns out my great-great grandfather was heavily involved in Hitler’s camp during World War II. That’s not exactly the history I was expecting. I thought being of Scandinavian descent would give my family a richer, more established history. My family wasn’t so lucky in that respect.
The realization suddenly hits that I have no choice but to use this money, one way or another. There’s no other choice–I’m fresh out of money. The last of the inheritance went to my flight and final train ride, and I screwed those up. Why didn’t I wake up at the other stops?
The train starts to slow down. Very quickly, I make up my mind, snatch up my duffle bag and shove the wallet in my hoodie pocket. Once I find the nearest door, I wait, bouncing on my toes for the train to stop and unload. A voice comes on over the intercom.
“Brussels-Midi.”
As soon as the doors open, my feet jump to the platform. The impact jostles my hoodie and the leather stuffed with Euros nearly flies out, making my heart nearly stop. People start milling out of the train around me so I don’t dare take it out to check on it. My hand stays firmly on the pouch in my pocket.
I’ve been to Brussels-Midi before so I immediately turn left and head to the ticket kiosks. I insert two 20 Euro notes into the machine and select a one-way ticket.
It’s not long before I’m anxiously seated on another train to Helsinki, watching as the Polish countryside flashes by in a blur.
sometimes saying goodbye
leaves a bittersweet taste
happy to have seen you
happy to know we’ll meet again
yet sad to leave your side
sad to not know when
I’ll be seeing you next
smiling so much it hurts
and not being able to stop
catching your eye for longer
than only a second, holding
not butterflies, but hummingbirds
in my chest, flapping their wings
trying to burst out to say it all
never knowing if friends
are all this is or if more
could ever come from it
for who wants to ruin
something that’s yet
to really happen…
if it ever will anyway
It’s about that time
to grow up and decide
what it is you want to do.
The crossroad is nearly here
with a couple paths present
along with the invisible flight
and the underground tunnel.
Which to take, which to choose?
Always the battle between
money and what you love.
Gotta make a living,
but gotta love what you do.
How to decide what is right,
even if just right for right now…
GAH! Why does this have to be so frustrating?
Near quarter-life crisis anyone?
take me out to the ball game
so i can take the pitcher out
strike out the catcher
and pull someone else up to bat
take me out to the ball game
let me run the bases
swing the ball round and round
throw the bat to the stands
take me out to the ball game
one strike… it’s you
two strikes … it’s me
three strikes and we’re both out
take me out to the ball game
but don’t take the girl home
Stars scrape the eyes
night turns to dark
a prayer whispered
but not unheard
asking for the light
begging for truth
hands grasp each other
in desperate comfort
awaiting the unknown
unsure of a free fall
yet willing to trust
and pull the grass
up by the tips
hoping it won’t break
instead growing more
longer, stronger
even steadfast and sure
a prayer whispered
loud and clear
for strength to face
whatever comes my way
