Flashbacks (3)

Bridget couldn’t remember ever feeling this bad.  Too tired, too hurt to move; even crying was too much work.  She wanted to die, but even that was too hard for her to do.

 I will be turning 16 in fives days time and I am beyond happy. I am so blessed to have gotten this far in life with only a broken arm and a few stitches along the way. I have a wonderful family who loves me, the best friends, and I am healthy enough to do daily activities such as running, reading, writing, learning, and laughing. I have learned so much this year and I am excited to start a new one.

     Walking across the dust covered floor, uncovering old laughter in my mind, of the times we'd tried to keep things quiet. Do you remember the failure of our fluffy pillow covers, when we hoped not to make a sound? Trying not to wake our sleeping little brother in the next room? Those times, of happy hearts, joy, and ease? Light minds and new starts. We were truly free. Almost running everywhere we dared, without fear or any cares.

*I don't know what made me think of this today, but here's what came of it...*

It was green, I remember,
fields stretching long,
and bushes hunched together
blackberries

It was stone, I remember,
statues, steps, path
grass growing through the cracks
and the pool full of our reflections
and tadpoles

It was damp, I remember
on a cloudy day under sweeping trees
reaching high with rustling leaves,
and the little house in the shadows with cobwebby sills
chasing, running

The old man sitting in front of the mountain chalet leaned back and watched an eagle soaring lazily above the mountain peak. He closed his eyes and listened for a moment to the wind hissing softly through the trees. He folded his rough hands across his broad chest and leaned back against the rough sides of the house. He was deep in thought when a light touch on his shoulder brought his to his feet. A slight woman with graying hair leaned over him, a soft smile on her weathered face. He smiled back and she seated herself at his side.

Today I was looking through my diary, getting all sentimental and nostalgic. I found some old poems that I wrote and thought, "Why not put 'em up on AP....just for kicks". And here they are.

This one I wrote when I was six or seven; my first poem ever!

Spring, spring!
It's almost here!
Beautiful flowers are coming near
A rose here, a tulip there
Green grass everywhere!
Spring's coming!

This one, oh....I'd say I was about 9 when I did this one.

Trumpet's notes as smooth as velvet
on old, musty antique couches
or forgotten, sweeping dress
hanging behind a bookshelf
full of yellowed volumes

Splashing, you and I,
across quiet streets
the drizzle making them shine
like silver keys, speckled with age
or all these leftover jewels
still sparkling in my eyes

Cobwebs and creaking stairs
and then out into the fresh air again
walking under dripping green awnings
flapping occasionally in the breeze
like startled birds,
ducks who like the rain

This week I'll turn sixteen. Apparently that's a big milestone. In most states, you can start driving when you're sixteen; you can get a job; you start looking at colleges and planning for the future. For some reason, it's more of a big deal for girls than it is for boys. I guess it's like a modern-day coming-out....our new version of "You're a lady now".