the boy you never forget, the summer it all begins

His name was David and I had known him ever since I was 14-almost-15. He had introduced himself to me in Sunday school, I was the new girl in town. . . . totally awkward and out of my element. He was one of the only people who attempted to be my friend, he spent three years talking to me and asking me how I was every Sunday, every single time we ran into each other. I developed a huge crush on another boy and David and I remained strictly friends. I was easy around him, comfortable. I couldn’t even fathom having a crush on him never mind falling in love with him.

And then in 2008 that fateful summer happened, the summer where it all began. He became the boy I would never forget. By then, he was 20 and I was 18, I was even more awkward and gawky than when we had first met. I had just graduated from high school, but I was wearing braces and I was all limbs. The chest that everybody said would come in by then still remained as flat as a board. Despite my lack of womanly physical changes, my heart and mind were starting to wake up and the boy I couldn’t even fathom having a crush on suddenly became very appealing as a man.

I fell in love with him that summer.

To this day I still don’t know how it happened. I have tried to figure it out, but looking back I cannot pinpoint the exact moment I knew. It was like I had loved him forever and I just hadn’t realized it because the friendship had been that  good.

The first day he came back from college and started to help our youth leader out with our youth group, he singled me out and we spent 3 fabulous months doing every single church related activity together.  We sat on the same couch every Sunday for Sunday school, we ate Wednesday night dinner together before prayer meeting began, during VBS he helped me tame the unruly bunch of 5-year-olds I had been assigned. On a mission trip, we built flower boxes together from scratch and planted flowers in them, being careful not to let our fingers accidentally touch while we patted down the soil. He gave me light blue Gatorade and spent hours giving me music and movie suggestions. He even lent me his absolute favorite movie in the world. When we went on our yearly youth trip, he sat with me every single night during dinner and we shared sweet tea from the same cup and at the end of the week, we were both sick with the same illness.  The first day we were there, I got up early to eat breakfast. I brought my book because I was going all by myself and wound up running into him, we wound up meeting every morning for an early breakfast. I never finished that book I brought. Not that week anyways.

2008 is littered with memories like that. By September, I was deeply in love with him. It had gotten to the point where I could see myself spending forever with him even though we hadn’t even been on a real date yet. But I was certain it would happen, he was still hanging around because he was studying abroad and he didn’t have to leave until the beginning of October. He never asked me out, even though he was always telling me how nice I looked and talking to me every week and teasing me about reading chick lit.

I thought it was because he was still in school because he was going to go to seminary the next year and he was smart. It never happened though. He never asked me out, we never got together together. He’s engaged to somebody else now and I am trying to recover from half-a-decade of waiting for him to come back and pick me.

But even though it’s over between us, even though it never actually began between us I know that he loved me too for a few brief moments in time.

And I never will forget him or that summer I fell in love with him.

I Believe. . .

I believe in fairy tales and in true love and that eventually, love will win out in the end no matter what. I believe in wishing on shooting stars and dandelion dust. I believe in Christmas and that you can fall in love again even after you’ve lost it to the worst of circumstances. I believe in second chances and that music really does heal, that just hugging is a powerful thing, that sometimes crying is the best therapy, that laughter is the best medicine. I believe that Anne Frank was right. . . in spite of everything, people really are good at heart. I believe that people do have an effect on us, even after they are gone. Especially after they’re gone. I believe in family, in sisterhood, in the bra code, in best friends. That fictional characters become part of our lives just for a little bit, that for a short amount of time they are our friends and that in the pages of a book, in the scenes of a movie or a television show there are lessons to be learned. I believe in superheros, I believe that we need them in our lives because they symbolize hope. I believe in Narnia and in Neverland. I believe in good coffee, in glitter, that sometimes a Starbucks barista does more than just make your coffee. I believe in bare feet and high heels and painted toenails. I believe that everybody is beautiful in their own way, that every girl is a princess. . . it is their right. I believe that one day there will be peace on earth, that everything has a purpose under the sun and that God is real. 

I especially believe that God is real.

The City – Drabble

The streets were filled with the sounds of a jazzy saxophone and flip-flops hitting cobblestone, the air heavy with southern warmness and numerous restaurants preparing dinner for the 5 to 10 crowd. People were cheering for the soccer teams at sports bars, sweating glasses of beer were in front of them, mixing with the smells of French fries and cheeseburgers. The couple in front of her were dressed up for a night out. . . the girl’s tattoo looked out of place with her high heels and little black dress. 

She smiled to herself. She loved the city, it filled her to the brim with energy and inspiration and coffee. She was herself there. 


Being Alive

He had spent over a decade being alone. It had become comfortable, to push people away, to pretend that he didn’t give a damn about anything or anybody, to wrap himself up in a bubble where nobody could ever hurt him again.

Then he met her. She was living proof of the age-old adage that good things came in small packages. A petite firecracker wrapped up in good intentions and a warm heart, she was a dizzying temptation to remember what it felt like to love somebody again. But there were times that he looked at her and all he could see were bloody corpses and dozens of multi-colored pills, chased by a bottle of cheap alcohol. So, he kept her at arm’s length and talked himself into believing the only thing between them was friendship. Even when it was glaringly obvious to everybody else around them that they were much more than friends.

He was okay with the status quo, even though he did spend the better part of two years pining away for her and writing her long, soppy love letters. He was still okay with pretending that he didn’t love her, to pretend that he was still a shell of man. . . soulless and dead to most human emotions. He didn’t believe that he deserved her. She was a saint and he was a sinner. She was an angel and he the badman. Everything he touched got ruined, he had already wrecked her a long time ago.

But mostly, he was still afraid that his heart would be broken again. That they would fall head-over-heels into stupid, crazy love and that he would lose her just like he’d lost his wife.

He didn’t think he could handle another broken heart. Not in this lifetime and maybe not in the next one either.

He just didn’t count on her ever meeting somebody else. He hadn’t counted on her going away. And suddenly everything he had been running away from came careening at him like a car that had lost all control. He had to face his feelings head-on or be in danger of the broken heart that he had been desperately trying to avoid.

But he couldn’t find the words, didn’t want to run her life like she had accused him of doing during their second reunion. So, he didn’t try even though it was killing him to watch her with somebody else, even though he was dying a little bit more every day while she slipped away from his grasp, fell out of his arms and into somebody else’s.

After feeling like he had been dying for the better part of a decade, he suddenly wanted to feel alive. He wanted to breathe again and get away from the feeling that he was drowning. He’d just spent so much time running away from it that he didn’t know how to start living again.

He bided his time and waited for the perfect opportunity to tell her exactly how he felt. Now that he knew how he felt about her and that he couldn’t live without her, he didn’t want to risk losing her. Especially not to a suave FBI agent and Washington DC.

He waited a little bit too long, the day she was going to leave was staring him in the face. She was going to stay and help them solve one more case and then, she was going to disappear from his life.

It was in the final moments that he finally plucked up the courage to tell her how he felt, to lay all his cards out on the table and asked her to stay with him, begged her to help him feel alive again. The look on her face made him think he had said the wrong thing, that she was still going to leave him by himself. He waited with bated breath, didn’t manipulate her or shower her with pretty lies about what he could offer her. The truth was, he couldn’t offer her much. So, there wasn’t any sense in telling her that he could.  

After a long moment of silence, she closed her eyes and released a breath. It seemed like she had been holding it in for a really long time. He waited for her to say something, to say anything in reply to him. But she turned away from him wordlessly. It took him a moment to recover from his shock, when he did, he ran to catch up with her.

He caught her and gently steered her around to look at him. There was a breath of a moment before he acted on impulse and kissed her. For one ugly second, he didn’t think that she was going to reciprocate and then it happened.  She kissed him back, causing his pulse to jolt unexpectedly. When he pulled away, all he could see was her and a dizzying amount of stars dancing in front of his eyes. He breathed out like a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest and then he released a breath again.

She looked at him in awe and disbelief. He had rendered her speechless when all he wanted to do was hear her voice telling him that she was going to stay with him. After a second, she framed his face with her hands and kissed him again, it was like she was making up for lost time.

She put his hands on his chest and gently pushed him away, biting her lower lip as her face broke into a smile. He tried to smile back but found his facial muscles wouldn’t comply as he stood there, still waiting for her to say something. . .  still waiting for her to say anything.

She flattened her hand on his chest and took his hand with her other one. She opened her mouth then, preparing to say the words that would make him or break him. He braced himself for overwhelming disappointment.

He waited, the anxiety overtaking him like an inescapable wave at the beach. Then, relief came in a simple phrase.

For the first time in a decade, he was completely aware of being alive.

Again, this post is actually a fan fiction I wrote, but since I didn’t use names, I realized it could be for any couple. This piece was inspired by Being Alive from Company. 

100 things that make me happy (in no particular order)

100. izzy watermelon soda

99. old bookstores

98. libraries

97. skinny jeans

96. short skirts

95. season premieres

94. black tights

93. girl talk

92. puppies

91. lifetime movies

90. hallmark movies

89. tumblr

87. dancing crazy

86. pink

85. watermelon gum

84. high heels

83. sparkles

82. movie premieres

81. new books


79. showing my legs off after keeping them covered up all winter

78. converse sneakers

77. thrift stores

76. glitter

75. nail polish

74. walking around target

73. to love another person is to see the face of god

72. hugs

71. cuddling with my youngest sister

70. over-sized sweaters

69. old movies

68. coffee ice cream

67. music

66. bare feet

65. finally beating that level on candy crush

64. sunshine

63. phone calls with my best friend

62. summer vacation

61. beach trips

60. starbucks

59. dunkin donuts

58. hazelnut iced coffee

57. carbs

56. mac & cheese

55. flannel shirts

54. daddy’s sweatshirts

53. clean sheets

52. clothes dried on the line

51. visits from my grandparents

50. skyping with my cousins

49. fishtail braids

48. messy buns

47. frank sinatra/gene kelly movies

46. broadway musicals

45. fan fiction updates

44. instyle magazine

43. new chap stick 

42. short lines at the grocery store

41. stacy’s pita chips

40. movies that move you to give standing o’s 

39. my sister, hannah

38. mixed tapes

37. strong song lyrics

36. rain showers

35. being snowed in

34. frozen

33. classical music

32. weddings

31. pedicures 

30. peppermint stick ice cream

29. christmas specials

28. white lights

27. decorating the christmas tree

26. jane & lisbon

25. when somebody else cooks breakfast

24. you’ve got mail

23. birthdays

22. having money to spend at the mall

21. sales at target

20. itunes gift cards

19. crayons

18. dinner

17. when the boston red sox wins the world series

16. when the patriots win the super bowl

15. red lipstick

14. new taylor swift songs

13. build your own pasta at macaroni grill 

12. all that jazz from chicago 

11. finn & rachel duets

10. 8tracks playlists

09. daddy fanboying

08. smooth legs

07. bracelets that fit

06. ideas that translate smoothly into stories

05. good reviews on stories i write

04. kissing scenes

03.   boy meets world

02. answered prayers

01. my family


This post was inspired by a book my sister got at Whole Foods. . .

Random Post 5.23.2014

She went through a Girl, Interrupted stage the summer before her senior year in high school. She’d watched the movie while she was nannying the little boy down her street. The next day, armed with a picture she’d found of Winona Ryder in an old Reader’s Digest and dressed in denim short overalls and a white button-down shirt, she went to the SmartStyle in a super Wal-Mart and had them cut her dark locks to replicate those of Susana’s. Completely transformed, she spent most of the summer up in her bedroom, drinking way too much Dr. Pepper and listening to Vanessa Carlton’s Harmonium and Simon & Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits on repeat, while she tried her hand at penning angsty poetry and tried to find herself in the identity of a character she had no business identifying herself with. By the end of the summer, her hair had started to grow out badly and she knew all the words to Annie*, because it reminded her of her dead grandmother and she liked to think she was keeping company with her ghost.  She liked to think she was a rock. . . that she was an island, she had listened to that song too much to. She emerged from her room, depressed and completely not ready to face a new school year. She wanted to continue to get high on caffeine and sugar, and write more angsty poetry that didn’t even make sense to her. But then it ended and returned to the person that she was before Girl, Interrupted. It was like taking off a mask and slipping back  into her older skin, a little more comfortable than before.  

*Annie is track 3 on Harmonium



We are sisters.

Connected by threads of DNA and blood

we share a modern history

Littered with make believe, Barbie dolls, and Disney movies we forged a path to womanhood

Helping each other through the heartache and over the stumbling blocks that teenage angst hurled at us

We are each other’s Band Aids 

We are one another’s Kleenex

Hand-in-hand we’ve walked to the light at the end of the dark tunnels

Searching for and creating silver linings in every grey cloud that darkened our sunny skies

An indie song is our soundtrack

A pop song sees us through balmy summer nights

We dance to the Best Song Ever

Charged by attractive superheroes and frozen yogurt

We’re young

and beautiful

Joined together by our hearts and secrets and threads of DNA