Time Capsule

Every year I go to my father’s for his birthday.

I don’t take him out for a meal, or to see a film or anything like that. We talk for a while, I give him his gift, and then we do what we’ve done every year for the last 7 years…we open up his time capsule. Inside, there are 5 items, each as important as the last. We take them out one by one, examining and discussing them. The first is a beautiful, golden ring. He puts it in the time capsule, because he wants to make sure it never gets lost, and he wants to give it to me when I get married. He says it’s a perfect fit, and I know it’s true, because I’ve tried it on. On the inner curve of the ring, there’s an inscription that reads, “Your smile is my oxygen.”

Next would have to be the camera. It’s a small, black camera that he took all of my childhood photos on, and that he took every photo in general on for as long as I can remember. He and my mother bought it at a thrift store before they got married, and he’d used it ever since. He even took every photo from their honeymoon on it. He tells me that I should do the same, ‘keep it in the family’, so to speak.

After that would be the corsage. It’s a beautiful shade of pink, and it fits perfectly on my wrist. It was my mothers as well, and she was the one who put it into the time capsule. He got it for her on their prom night, and she still cherishes it he says.

After the corsage comes the key. It’s the key to the first place my parents owned. It was their dream house. He says my mom wishes they still lived there, but I know better, that she’s happy where she is now. She’s happy where they are. But, that aside, it’s still an important piece of their history, and therefore, it’s made its way into the time capsule.

Finally, the last item in the box is a baby photo of me. It was taken by that same camera, in the hospital, mere moments after I was born. In the photo, my mother is holding me, beaming so happily, and my father says it’s her favorite photo of all time. After we’re through, we repack the time capsule, put it back onto the top shelf of his closet and go to dinner. We do this every single year.

We do this every single year, and we will continue to do so. We do it for mom. She’s been gone a while now, but they made that time capsule together on her deathbed in the hospital, where they spent her last days together. She told him that this way, they’d never be apart. This way, none of us would be apart. My father won’t admit it, but he misses her more than he lets on, though he tries to stay strong. But, if you look at just the right angle into his eyes, you can see her, still caught in his gaze, looking just as beautiful as the day they met.

We miss you, mom.

Dad especially.


We Could

We could tangle in the sands on a moonlight stricken beach
We could put our heads up in the clouds, no dream is out of reach
We could read every book, and discuss them end to end
We could climb every tree, every branch would never bend

We could learn every language and study all our years
We could tackle every demon, and conquer all our fears
We could throw away all of today, and instead dream of tomorrow
We could procrastinate and investigate, accept the joy and sorrow

We could learn every skill and trait, and work every job
We could learn the names of all the stars, our time will not be robbed
We could argue every point of view, grow and learn and love
We could use these skills to show others what they too are capable of

Yes there’s still so much for us to do, with the time that we have here
I want to do it all with you, I’ve made this very clear
I want to explore the universe, because even though it’s true
That it’s glorious and wondrous, the real beauty is you



i crave simple things.

i crave rain on my windows in the morning, sudden light showers without warning; i crave whimsical planning, stardust daydreams, fireworks and cozy streams . i crave nature, a garden, something green, growing something that can be seen. i crave hiking and biking, fireplaces and pretty faces. fresh warm towels and candlelights, taking baths and neon signs; dream catchers and pastel colors, toothy smiles and helping others.

i crave sunday mornings and breakfast nooks, reading books, kitschy looks; i crave bake sales and ptas, holding hands and pda, i crave trips to the park and walks in the dark, eating sweet delights and kissing under starry nights. i crave berry picking, sweater knitting, baking, painting and bridal fittings; arts and crafts and lanyard making, sidewalk chalk and picture taking; summer night fireflies, flagstone walkways, big green eyes; koi ponds, fountains, christmas lights, aquariums and flying kites.

i crave all these, yes it’s true.

but most of all…i crave you.


Close To Monsters #6


Todays “Close To Monsters” is brought to you by the reality of ignoring all your real life problems. Dishes in the sink? Not showering for weeks on end? Can’t find employment? None of it matters. Listen to “ABBA” instead. You’re just too cool for life.


He’s Got Your Best Interests At Heart

There’s a little black shadowesque man who lives in the back of my head. I’m not sure when he moved in, but he’s been there for quite a long time now, I know that, because he’s been guiding me for a while, at least since childhood. He’s faceless, his limbs elongated, and he doesn’t speak. He communicates solely via telepathy. He’s filled with doubt, anxiety, sadness, fear and frustration. He’s constantly getting me to doubt everything I think or do. Anytime I think I might be about to accomplish something, he speaks up, stating, “This isn’t the right way to do this” or “It’ll never work, you know that, don’t you?”

At first I thought he was looking out for me. Keeping me from making mistakes, but no, he’s keeping me from making progress, and yet, since he’s been with me for so long now, I cannot function without him. Sometimes he takes time off, exiting through the small trap door he installed in the back door of my head, and I get left to my own devices. Upon his return, he sighs, rubbing his forehead with his lengthy fingers and says, “Look at this mess I have to clean up now.” He’s been there more than any mother or father, and is just as judgemental as they, but it’s not the same. His disappointment isn’t said with a bitterness, a venomous cynicism, whereupon he’s not actually putting me down but upset that, much like a small child, I cannot be without supervision. He’s upset. He wants me to be okay, but he himself isn’t even sure how to give me that peace of mind.

When in doubt, I often turn to him for advice. If I don’t think I’m making the right decision, I will ask his opinion, and if he even so much as hesitates in his response, I know not to continue with it. He argues with me that others are out to get me, that my family hates me, that I can’t have friends. He doesn’t believe any of that, but he himself doesn’t know how to fix it either. He’s just as clueless as I am. That’s what keeps us glued at the hip, like paper chain children. That’s why he stays. Because he knows I have nobody else, and I need someone to watch over me. Yet I know that there’s the possibility that I will lose him. That one day, I will wake up and feel ok, and he may never come back. That the space he’d occupied in the back of my head for so long will be gone, cleared of his few possessions and he will never return. I will go on to lead a good life, filled to the brim with possibilities, overflowing with happiness. Friends, a good job, a clean safe living space.

And despite this new social life, I’ll always feel alone, because nobody can fill the void that a piece of yourself once filled.