i’ll remember you

Yesterday I got some news that a dear friend had passed away. My heart has been ever so heavy for hours and hours and tears are insistent, try as I may to keep them at bay. I have always been an advocate of words as catharsis, but words seem frail when we’re hollowed out by grief. Oh how I miss you, my friend. One of my personal waves of grief is just wanting Heaven closer. There is something cruel about knowing where your dear one has gone and yet having no way of getting there without Heaven itself calling you there. There is a quote that I love, though, that says, “Children are the hands by which we take hold of Heaven”. I have found so much joy in working with my little ones these last several months. Their beaming eyes and warm spirits have brightened my life. The last couple of days have been colored in sorrowful hues of ache and emptiness. But children always bring their own precious brand of light and healing. I have been meaning to compile these little gems for sometime now. For someone who was utterly devoted to his nieces and nephews, it seems like this is something he would have appreciated wholly. Here are some laughs for you, JKRB. You are forever in our hearts.

“Miss Brittany, I went poop.”

“You know why I’m making another card? Because every day my mom throws away my pictures.”

“One day my brother lost a toenail and he used it as a guitar pic.”

“A statement is when a man cements something to the state.”

“Can I may be excused?”

Me: “Do you know my name?”
“Uh huh!”
Me: “What is it?”
“I dunno!”

“My grandpa died bc he ate too many cigarettes.”

“I have grape jelly at my house!”

“Miss Brittany, you a nice person.”

(On Cinco de Mayo) “Today is Pinko Piscaco, they celebrate it in Mexico.”

*Observes an unopened yogurt on the lunch table* “But whose yogurt this is?”
Me: “That is Miss Bella’s yogurt.”
“She needs to eat it or else her mom will be mad.”

“Look what I have in here– *pulls shirt down* –boobies!!”

“In my dream there was a pink octopus and a pit-bull and a gray one and a yellow one and they were finding all their kids.”

“Miss Bernie– her say a bad word!”
Me: “What word did she say?”
*whispers* “Her say, ‘sand-dollar’.”

“Yes, of course.” -a child’s response to everything I ask him

“Is Harper* a girl or what?”

“I cannot smell because I am not a pup.”

“Why do you have nails like me? Wait- are you a girl?”
Me: “Yes, I’m a girl.”
“Then how come boys can’t turn into girls?”

“I cannot turn into a girl because I do not have any magic.”

“We found a dead lizard in the pool so I put it in a safe place under the couch.”

“When I was a baby I was hiding in my mom’s tummy with a small foot.”

*uses gluestick* “I’m using my muscles for this.”

“Miss Brittany you know my mom had a baby and I have cereal at my house.”

*playing with gender ambiguous doll* “He’s pee pee fall off!”

“Miss Brittany, are you a grown up?”

“I drew you a picture of a grass.”

Me: “Ok and 1 + 5 is?”
“G.”

“Miss Brittany are you real?”

peace and so much love.

*child’s name has been changed.

 

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Sentimental Me

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“It is looking at things for a long time that ripens you and gives you meaning.”
-Vincent Van Gogh

From The Louvre, The Musee d’Orsay is just a short walk across the bridge and along the Seine. But, a walk across and along the Seine is so much more than that, isn’t it? It is a stroll down Memory Lane, only they are not actual memories- they are all the imagined scenarios you’d hoped to collect someday but deep down never really knew how to conjure up into realness. Continue reading

Raised On Rock

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“It’s great to be here. It’s great to be anywhere.”
-Keith Richards

Keith Richards turns an immortal 71 today. I wrote this for him.
And for my dad. And for me.

Anais Nin said, “we write to taste life twice”, and I say that perhaps we write to taste it twice, and then read those words over and over to dine on life for the rest of our days. Perhaps we write to create appendages to things, and moments, and feelings already beautiful in their own right.

Continue reading

Apron Strings

mayday“For this child I prayed.” 1 Samuel 1:27

I promise I will always have pennies in my coin purse in case we happen upon a fountain, for I will never stand for you missing out on anything upon which you can attach a wish. I promise to let you stay home from school every January 8th, and we will have Elvis sandwiches and watch his movies all day long. (We will tell your teachers it is a religious holiday.) Continue reading

A House That Has Everything

 

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“Art and love are the same thing: It’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.”
-Chuck Klosterman

The Louvre inspires awe before you even step foot inside its walls. You can’t help but marvel at the remarkable intricacies carved into its facade, during a time when men’s gifted hands were their livelihood; the talents they nurtured became their life’s work.  It’s a beautiful thing, the recognition that though this place holds so many works of art within its walls, it yet stands as a work of art itself. I can’t help but compare this to people, too. Continue reading

Girl: Happy

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“In this world in which we live, simplicity and kindness are the only magic wands that work wonders.”
-L. Frank Baum

When I think of living simply, I immediately envisage small living spaces. Most often, the requiem I find myself in is a small loft apartment, with charmingly crackled walls, cold concrete floors, and a bed clad in diaphanous white linens, the center of it all. There are countless little towers of vintage books, haphazardly strewn throughout the humble haven, all standing watch like little sentinels.  Continue reading

I Don’t Care If The Sun Don’t Shine

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^ That was taken at Versailles! “Isn’t it marvelous?!”

“With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?”
-Oscar Wilde

Ernest Hemingway said to write hard and clear about what hurts. A truth I am trying to champion is that there is an acuity to my words only when they are written extractions of my tragic vulnerabilities (proof: here); I want to be able to extract my happiness with the same amount of expressive precision.  I have hesitated for quite some time to publish this part of my life for fear of brandishing my unpleasantries for the world wide web to witness. But, another truth I am trying to overcome is that I am not very brave. And so I am going to do as Ernest urged. He was, after all, a man so very handsome, and as  “I’m just a girl who cain’t so no” to a handsome man… Continue reading

Beginner’s Luck

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“It’s a new dawn,
It’s a new day,
It’s a new life, for me.
And I’m feeling good.”
-Nina Simone

May 4, 2014: Paris, France

The Saturday morning street markets in Paris are neither loud nor quiet, but simply alive. There are the sounds of early mornings everywhere: the sweet chirpings of winged things and the now and again passing of taxis on the cobbled avenues.   Continue reading