A Summer Love Story

A summer love story

A wandering mind is a dangerous thing and hers was about as far from safe as it could be as she watched him working in the yard.  Several years her senior he had experienced the world more than she had in her short 18 years on this planet.  Freshly graduated from High School and spending her last summer at home she was as green as green could be.  The saying “Sweet 16 and never been kissed” still applied to her two years later and she didn’t find anything sweet about that.

He could feel her watching him from her bench on the porch, pretending to be reading every time he looked up.  She was a pretty girl.  The kind of pretty that most guys don’t appreciate until they have grown up a little and lived some.  At 25 he had done some living and some growing up. This town was his fresh start.  A girl like that could make a man real proud to have her on his arm.  He looked over at her and smiled as she went back to pretending to read.

“Damn it, Mark, if innocence had a picture next to it in the dictionary it would be of her.” He chuckled to himself at that thought as he went back to planting.

“Who are you fooling?” She asked herself.  “He knows what you are doing.  You should at least say, ‘Hello’ or something.”  She got up and went inside.  It was getting hot and she was thirsty.  She grabbed two glasses and a plate from the cupboard and filled them with ice cold lemonade and some homemade cookies and placed them  on a tray.  

When she went back outside the sound of the screen door banging shut made him look up towards her.

“Hey, you need a break?” She asked while lifting the tray up as an invitation. 

He stood up, stretched showing off a peek of his muscular torso, and shot her a smile while walking over.  She thought her ice cubes were going to melt from how hot this guy was. 

She set her tray down on the porch as he reached out to shake her hand.

“I’m Mark.  Mark Hansen.”

“Jessa Ames” she said shaking his hand.

“Well, Jessa, you are a life saver.  A break was exactly what I needed.”

As they sat down on the porch steps she handed him his glass.

“Are you new in town, or just to this neighborhood?”

“I’m new to town.  My great Aunt owns that house and she is letting me stay there and take care of it while she is in the nursing home.”

“That is nice.  Are you a landscaper by trade?”

“No, that is just my hobby and part of our agreement.”

“Oh, well you are making it look real nice.”

“Thank you.  Hey, did you make these cookies?  They are delicious!”

“Yes, baking is sort of my hobby.”

“Wow! Pretty and you can bake!  I’m surprised there isn’t a line around the block waiting to see you!”

Jessa blushed.  Was he flirting with her?

“Thank you. I made them all leave when you moved in.”   Did she really just say that?

Mark was surprised by her quick wit and bold come back.  Was he the one blushing now? He laughed and said, “Lucky for me.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment then Jessa cleared her throat and asked, “If you aren’t a landscaper what do you do?”

“I am starting my own construction business.”

“That explains the muscles.” Jessa turned three shades of pink realizing she just said that out loud.

Mark laughed, “I guess so!” He was falling for this girl.  She was a refreshing change, so open and candid.  “Well, I better get back to work.  Thanks again for the break.”

“You are welcome.” She thought she had blown her chance for this to go anywhere but awkward as he walked away.

He turned around on the bottom step, “Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

“Any time.” She carried the tray back into the kitchen and smiled for the rest of the day.

Several days later nothing more had happened, but an occasional wave as they both came and went going about their daily activities. It was the weekend and Jessa woke up hoping to see sunshine and her neighbor back out working in the yard.  Instead the skies were dark and gloomy.  It was the perfect kind of a day for baking.  She looked through the cupboards and realized that she was out of a lot of supplies.

“Mom, I am taking the car to the store.” She called down to her mom who was doing laundry.

As she was pulling back into the driveway the skies opened up and rain poured down in sheets.  Jessa saw Mark run out of his house barefoot in just his pajama bottoms to his storage shed.  He grabbed a tarp and was trying to cover up his freshly planted seedlings before the rain destroyed them.  She hopped out of the car and ran over to help him.

“Here, let me help!” she said over the rain.

“You will get drenched!” He protested.

“I already am, give me a corner.”

No sooner had they covered the delicate plants when huge hail stones started pelting down.  Mark grabbed Jessa by the hand and said, “Come on!”

They ran up his steps and into his house.  Just as the door shut a huge clap of thunder shook the windows.  Jessa jumped and Mark protectively wrapped his arms around her.  It was the closest she had ever been to a man who wasn’t related to her and they had definitely all been wearing shirts.  She wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the excitement that made her start to shake.

“Oh man, you are freezing!  Are you okay?” He asked still holding on to her.

She looked up into his eyes and nodded.  His lips were just inches from hers.  She bit her lip as her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again.

“God, she is beautiful!” He thought.  She was dripping wet, hair all a mess, but he had never seen anyone look cuter.  A drop of water was about to drip off the end of her nose.

“You are beautiful.” He said aloud as he wiped the drip away. He put his hand against her cheek and instinctively she moved closer to him.  And then as if in slow motion she was no longer “Sweet 16 (plus two) and never been kissed”. She was Jessa, 18 and in love with the man next door that she barely knew.  She would never be that awkward girl from yesterday again.  IN that moment she saw herself as a woman about to start her life.

As he held her Mark felt her body give into him.  Caught up in the moment he let himself kiss her.  This girl next door had drawn him in.  He had never wanted someone in his life more.  It was as if he was holding his future in his hands and he wasn’t about to let go of it.

A flash of lightening lit up the house.  Mark knew he had to step away from Jessa or risk letting himself get carried away.  He could tell she was inexperienced and he was afraid that wherever he led she would follow.  He stepped back and looked at her again. She really was a beauty.  A quiet kind of beauty that isn’t flashy and doesn’t even know she is beautiful.

“If we stay like this much longer we are going to catch a cold.  I better go change.  Let me grab you a blanket.”

“Oh, that is okay I can just run home.”  Another flash of lightening illuminated the room and a gust of wind blew the trees outside.

“You better just stay here until this storm calms down.”

“Okay.”

Mark handed her a quilt from the hall closet and went down the hallway to his bedroom.  Jessa looked around at the house.  She suspected that everything was just as his Aunt had left it.  It was a style that she would call, “Grandma sheik”; crocheted blankets on the couch and copper jello molds on the wall in the kitchen.  She spotted a tea pot on the stove and decided to get it boiling for some tea to warm them up.  With the water running and her back to the doorway she didn’t hear Mark come up behind her.  Something about watching her in his kitchen just felt right.  Without hesitation he reached around her waist with his strong hands as she placed the tea pot on the stove and kissed her on the cheek.  

“Good idea.” He said.

Jessa’s whole body tingled at his touch as if something inside of her had been turned on instead of the stove. Finding her voice, she asked, “Feel better?”

“Yes, but you are still freezing. Can I loan you some clothes to change into?”

“No, I am okay, honest.” Jessa could only imagine what her Mother would think if she came home in a strange man’s clothes. Innocent or not she didn’t want to take the chance of her thinking the worst.

“Well, then please sit at the table and wrap yourself up in that blanket while I finish up the tea!” 

“Okay.” 

While the storm continued to rage outside they sat and talked and learned more about each other.  Jessa was going off to college in the Fall to become a teacher.  Fortunately it would only be a couple of hours away.  Mark had been raised in a small town like this one as a boy, but then in High School his family moved to the big city.  By the time the tea had been drank and they had warmed up the storm had calmed.

“I had better get home and get those groceries I bought this morning in the house.” 

“Let me help you.” 

The girl who didn't know she was a princess and the Mom who forgot to tell her

Once upon a time there was a little girl. An extraordinary, amazing, beautiful little girl. She was a princess, only she didn't know it. She had no diamonds, no tiara's, no servants, but she was a princess none the less. She was born royal. Born to be a queen. No, no, not the kind that sits on a throne, but the kind that walks in humility and grace and is greatly adored.

Yes, this was the destiny of this particular little girl, but her Mom forgot to tell her this as she was growing up. Her Mom got distracted and forgot to make sure that the little girl knew this about herself; she let her own insecurities and doubts overshadow her and didn't whisper the words that the girl needed to hear each night as she drifted off to sleep. Sometimes the Mom yelled out words that made the little girl think less of herself and that echoed in her heart and soul. The Mom didn't mean to do this, but the little girl didn't know that and she blamed herself for her Mom's scournful words. She even believed them.

If the Mom could take all those moments back, take the words and the attitudes, and the looks that hurt the little girl back she would. She would pull them out from deep in the little girl's heart and replace them with the truth. The truth that the girl is amazing and beautiful. The kind of beauty that comes from deep down inside and shoots out of her. She would tell her how smart she is and how funny. She would tell her that no matter what others say and no matter where life takes her that she is royal. It is her birthright, because her Father is a King, the King of kings, and He made her with a purpose. The Mom would tell her all these things a thousand nights over and hope that the words would reverberate throughout her and knock loose any of the lies that may have made their way in. The lies that tell the little girl that she is nothing and has nothing to offer. The lies that tell her she is less than this person or that. The Mom knows though how those lies can get imbedded deep. She also knows that her own words sometimes barbed the lies and made them stick. The Mom wishes in a million ways to remove the barbs, she hopes that the little girl princess will listen now to the truth.

Dear Princess :

I am sorry. You are so much more than what you think you are than what I have led you to believe. You are talented and ever so lovable. You are smart and generous. You are everything a mother could want in a daughter and more. Please don't ever doubt your birthright. You deserve the best things out of life. The best isn't money, prestige, or possessions. The best is knowing that you are worth being treated well and knowing that even when you aren't, (because there are times when you won't be because not everyone recognizes royalty when they see it) that your worth is still the same. The best is treating others as the royalty that they are, even when they forget to act royal. The best is believing who your Father says you are and not listening to what His enemies say you are, because His enemies only seek to destroy His kingdom and those who will inherit it. The best is being willing to forgive, both yourself and others. The best is remembering that you are royal and that your heart and body aren't to be used as currency in hopes of finding love and acceptance, but rather knowing that they are both more precious than any treasure to be found and they are to be treated with respect and awe. Never trade your treasure for a dollar store trinket, be wise and patient in the affairs of the heart and body, because the best would never want your treasure in exchange for plastic jewelry. (If you forget this or mistake plastic for gold someday, you are still loved and still treasured, your worth is not what you do it is who you are.) If someone uses your treasure without persmission, that does not make it worth less or cheapen you, that makes them a theif, do not mistake the two. Remember these things, learn them, take them to heart. Don't let them slip your mind, because there will still be days when I forget to whisper them to you. There will still be days when my words, actions, and looks might mislead you into believing less. It is on those days that you will need to remember this and hold tight to it. Spread this truth to your friends, because they are just as much a princess as you are. You are loved dear daughter. SO loved. You are the most precious treasure always, forever, no matter what. Do not forget your birthright.

The Road to Finding Me........Prologue

Life is hard, isn't it?  A lot harder than I ever imagined it to be.  It is so easy to get lost in it.  That is where I am right now, lost.  I couldn't tell you where or when it started, when I lost myself.  Maybe I never fully found myself to begin with.

As hard as life is, people are harder.  Life makes them hard.  Hard to see.  Hard to know.  One thing I have learned in this life is that we all want to be seen and to be known.  The trouble is that life comes at us so hard and so fast that we begin to wall ourselves off.  We get so caught up in the building, stacking our stones until the one thing we want, to be seen and known, becomes impossible.

So, here I am lost behind a maze of walls, wanting to be known, and not even knowing who I am.  I have spent so much time building, running my fingers over these coarse bricks that I have become like them - cold and hard. 

The building of these walls came easily enough.  That is another thing I have learned.  Lots of people are willing to give you bricks in which to build with.  It is the tearing them down that comes harder.  Every time you chisel away a brick you have to work at it, remember who it is from, how it was given to you.  Some bricks are heavier than others.  It isn't easy work.  I am tired of living and being lost behind these walls of stone bricks.  My only way out is to take them down.  I must take them down one by one and instead use them to build a road.  A road to finding me.

The Legend Of Split Foot

Growing up our family had a fun little tradition called Split Foot who brings some extra candy and a little gift on New Year's Eve.  I believe the tradition started with my Grandfather or Great Grandfather.  Back in 2009 I wrote this story to go with our tradition.  I hope you enjoy it.  Our family has always loved Split Foot.  Feel free to incorporate it into your traditions as well if you like. 

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A long time ago, before your Great-Great Grandfather was a small boy, a reindeer was born. This reindeer just happened to be born in the North Pole and Santa planned for him to be a part of his sleigh team that delivered toys to all the children on Christmas Eve. There was just one problem though, this cute little reindeer was born different than all the other reindeer. He was born with a big split in his hoof, which is how he got the name Split Foot. Santa had all his best vetrinarians look at Split Foot's hoof and they all agreed, there was nothing that could be done. Split Foot would always be different from the other reindeer and would never be fast enough to help deliver presents on Christmas Eve.




Split Foot grew up and would help Santa get ready for Christmas Eve by taking presents from the workshop to the wrapping house, and from the wrapping house to the delivery barn. He loved that he could help Santa in those small ways, but always wished that someday he would get a chance to deliver those presents to little boys and girls around the world. Little did he know that day would come sooner than he thought.



Christmas Eve was always a busy night with elves and reindeer hurriedly rushing about, but this particular year was even busier than most, because Santa's nice list was exceptionally long. Split Foot watched longingly as the sleigh team donned their best bells and harnesses. He tried not to be sad as he watched them fly away that night. As he was turning to head home he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Oh no, a pile of presents and candy had been left over in the corner, Santa had forgotten them! Split Foot knew it was too late to call Santa back to get them, something had to be done and he had to do it. It was then that Split Foot knew his time had come to deliver presents. As fast as he could he loaded those presents and candy onto a delivery sleigh and set off into the night sky to deliver them. He knew he would never catch up to Santa, but he would do his best and even if they got there late it was better than them not getting there at all.



Split Foot flew as fast and as hard as he could. On New Year's Eve he made it to the houses that had been forgotten and when the children woke up on New Year's Day they found their missing present and candy from Santa waiting for them on the fireplace. Every year since then Split Foot has always found a few presents and candy that Santa forgot to put in the sleigh and delivers them on New Year's Eve. Maybe this year you will be one of the lucky children that finds a delivery from Split Foot.

And So I Write

I have words that long for the spilling.  They tumble inside of me, deep.  And so I write.

I am invisible.  Lost in the world of diapers and dishes.  Who I am is trapped within.  And so I write.

I have songs that wait for hearts to sing them.  And so I write.

I am filled with stories just waiting for eyes to read them.  And so I write.

I write and I write until I feel that I am empty of words.  I write and I write letting the inner me escape the trappings of wipes and dish soap.  I write and I write listening for hearts that are singing.  I write and I write in hopes that eyes enjoy the reading.

The words have been loosed, the poet awakend......

and so I write.

A Little Color

So my good friend's daughter drew this amazing picture which she entitled "A Little Color".  I love it.  I would hang it on my wall.  It inspires me.  In her description of the picture she says that she is seeking inspiration.  Her void has become my well, so to speak.  With her permission I will add the picture to this blog. 

A Little Color

plushiemon

I stand solitary and alone in the darkness. 

Devoid of color.

In the world that I have become stranded on.

I watch as life keeps on swimming past me,

Out of reach.

I raise my arms up to the Light.

I raise my arms and I cry out for colors to fill the darkness.

The Light sends me colors bright.

My open arms are filled with them.

Shades of purple color my hands and circle my head.

Purple, the color of royalty.

The Light has reminded me that I am His.

I am His and I am royal.

Suddenly, my surroundings seem less dark.

The life that is swimming by doesn't seem as far.

All it took was just

A Little Color.

Lucky, The Little Dragon

Once upon a time, there was a little dragon. His name happened to be Lucky, but he certainly did not feel as though he was very lucky.  Lucky's life had been hard for him.  He got teased a lot by the other dragon's at his school, Dragon's Breath Elementary, because he didn't live with his real parent's like all of the other dragons did.  He lived in a foster home with a really nice family of dragons.




Lucky's real parents didn't take care of him the way they should have and some bad things happened to him.  That is why he was put into a new home with the Fire-Flyer family.  His new foster family loved Lucky a lot and wanted to help him feel good about himself and know that no matter what had happened to him before that he was a very special little dragon.  Even if bad things had happened to Lucky, that didn't make Lucky a bad dragon.





Lucky, feeling sad and completely unlucky felt as if he must have been a bad dragon for his real parents to have treated him so unkindly.  He liked his new family, but he wasn't sure if he could trust them.  What if they decided he wasn't a good dragon anymore?  Would they be mean to him like his parents had?  Lucky decided that he would just be very quiet.  If he was a quiet dragon no one would notice him.  If no one noticed him then they couldn't think he was bad and they wouldn't stop loving him and want to hurt him.





His foster family noticed how quiet he was and they couldn't get him to talk, so they took Lucky to see a counselor.  The counselor was an older dragon, with fluffly black hair.  Her name was Sarah Snaggleclaw.  She told Lucky that he could call her Sarah.  Lucky didn't say anything.  Sarah, smiled at Lucky and told him that it was okay to be quiet.  She showed him around her office.  She had some toys, books, and games to play with.  She asked if Lucky would like to play with any of them, but he just looked down at his feet and wiggled his claws.




Sarah started to talk about herself.  She told Lucky all about growing up and how she used to be teased because of her fluffy black hair.  She told him that she had always wanted purple hair or green hair like the rest of the dragon girls and how the teasing made her feel so bad about her own hair that she began to be quiet and try to hide so that she wouldn't be noticed.  She told him that it took her a long time to start talking and that her parents had to take her to a counselor when she was little.  It had taken her a long time to want to talk to the counselor, so it was okay if Lucky just wanted to be quiet. 




Sarah handed him some paper and crayons and told him that he could color a picture for her instead of talking.  Lucky loved to color.  He drew and drew until before he knew it, it was time to go home.  The next week when Lucky came he went straight to the paper and crayons.  He drew lots of pictures.  Occassionally he would stop to tell Sarah about what he was drawing. 





This went on every week until one week Lucky decided that Sarah was safe to talk to.  He began to talk and he told her about all sorts of things.  Things like school, his foster family, and what he wanted to be when he grew up.




It took him a long time before he would talk to Sarah about his past and what had happened to him, but eventually he talked about that, too.  He was worried that when he told her she would decide that he was a bad dragon and not want to see him anymore, but she didn't.  She told Lucky how what happened to him was wrong.  It was wrong and it wasn't his fault.  She told him that he deserved to be loved and was a very good and lovable dragon.  She told him that he had a lot of good things about him and that he should share those things with everyone instead of hiding and being quiet.





Lucky wasn't sure if she was right or not, but he decided to try.  He began talking at his foster home.  He discovered that they still loved him.  They still loved him and weren't mean to him, even if he was noisy,  did things wrong, or sometimes said things that weren't very nice.  They still loved him and didn't think he was bad. 





He became brave enough to start speaking at school again too.  He began talking and he started showing people his artwork.  Lucky started to have friends and he was happy.  There were still times when he got teased, but he learned that he didn't have to listen to the teasing.  He could ignore it, because he knew that what the teasers were saying wasn't true.  He knew he was loved, that he was a good dragon, and he really was lucky, even if he lived in a foster home and his past wasn't so lucky.  His name was Lucky and he finally felt like he really was a lucky little dragon.