It was only a dream...

A final breath filled my lungs
with the sweet sting of morning's air,
telling me, whispering
"It was only a dream."

The tightness of my body makes me stretch and reach
for the comfort of night.
Breathing deep, deeper
trying to inhale the last pieces
of the dawn already past.

My head sinks back into my pillow,
my clouded, heavy eyes
can't find what it was
from which I woke.

But it was only a dream
that made my lips smile
and my eyes glimmer in hopes of a tear.
It was only the moon
outside my window
masked as the sun of my slumber.
It was only a dream
that wrapped its arms around my waist
and pulled me into its seasons.

It was only a dream...

But for a moment
with my eyes closed
and my mind wide awake,
it was real,
it was wonderful,
and much more than just a dream.

Still Figuring It All Out

I still can’t understand all the fuss over The Beatles.
Sometimes I make lists with the intention of ignoring the list and everything on it.
I love my chin. It’s just like my dad’s.
I’m starting to fear growing old.
I don’t want my parents to grow old.
In 15 years of vegetarianism, the only meat I’ve ever craved is a hot dog.
My husband is more than I think I deserve.
The State Fair is one of the greatest places on earth.
I could fill hours just watching people (see above).
If I could, I would be a performer. I would belt out song after heartfelt song in front of millions.
Everyone thinks I love Janis Joplin but I really just love one song.
I’m scared of the dark.
Okay, I’m terrified of the dark.
Green olives and Dr. Pepper is one of the culinary world’s best kept secrets.
Dancing is one of my very favorite things.
I love to sing along with the Dixie Chicks “I’m Not Ready to Make Nice.”
Sometimes I don’t feel like making nice.
I know I’m my own harshest critic.
I would give my life for my family. Each and every one of them.
If I could change one thing about me, it would be my indecision. Maybe.
I’m a sweaty sleeper.
Though their numbers are not great, I do have the greatest friends on earth.
It’s hard to remember sometimes, but I am blessed.

Something for Free

If I opened my inbox on one otherwise unassuming Monday morning and discovered an email entitled “Something for Free,” I might ignore the message as yet another piece of unwanted cyber-junk mail. But not this morning. This morning was different from all of the other mornings that all look this same on the outside. Unlike the 1,612 other Monday mornings I have lived, this morning had a costume on. It was shiny, bright, and bell-jingly just like I imagine my own personal court jester might be. Yes, this morning was special. But I had no idea why…until I opened my inbox.

Among the cluttered pile of MySpace notices and e-ads rested a message containing the most potent three-word phrase known to capitalists the whole world around. My breath caught midway between inhale and exhale. Could this be? Is this a hoax? Despite the known risks, the promise of “Something for Free” was just too great to discard. What if I could really get something (what that something is doesn’t matter) for free? Who doesn’t like free stuff? I’ve had a rough few weeks, I thought to myself. I deserve something for free. This has to be God’s way of sprinkling fairy dust in my direction. (I’m also going through something of a spiritual reinvention.)

My hand hovered over my mouse, savoring the suspense for a few moments longer. Sure, I’ve had my share of complimentary gifts. Perfume samples, company notebooks, even the occasional USB storage device (I can almost hear the jealousy percolating) have found their way into my always available pockets. But this email held a fresh and new promise. “Something” could be anything – a winning Powerball ticket, a sailboat signed by the Rolling Stones, a vintage box of Frosted Flakes, even a date with Tad Hamilton. The possibilities were positively endless…

Wait. Freezing, I realized that once I click on this email, I’ll know. The possibilities will no longer be endless. The possibilities will suddenly be…known. I’ll be ahead by two free admissions to Wall Drug or a vial of sandy Maryland ocean water but my Something will have become something.

With a deep exhale, I shift the mouse and lift my right index finger to click. Deleting an email has never felt so good.

From Words

Words are no longer enough.
I need colors,
Figures.
I need sounds and pictures
To shout
The sharpness, the fullness
Of this.

This love
Has taken me from words
To painting
In color
In motion
In life.