No Sidewalks

I have always had this thing for poetry. I love to read it, and I love write what I can. I am going to start posting a poem every once in a while. Here is my first attempt.

I grew up in a small town, a town with no sidewalks. I once had a friend who told me he never wanted to live in a place that was big enough to have paved sidewalks. "That's when people stop waving to eachother when they drive by," he said. It made me stop and think about what I love about living in a rural place, and this poem came out of it. It has a lot of revision to go, and I would love input from all of you.

No Sidewalks

I live in a town with no sidewalks,
And my bones have grown there as the trees.
There is a road that wobbles and winds
And stretches into infinite distance.
My feet have never found its end.

I walk on the road where broken
Asphalt meets weed; I can see
Mountain to mountain to mountain
To sky. A cradle of dirt and rock
Open up to bright swaggering blue.

I stop on the road to let a
Gurgling stream greet my thoughts. I lay
to look out of the mouth of the cradle.
On the horizon, cows and grass give
Way to pavement and glass.

The sky strains too heavy
With smearing, fading smog.
It rolls closer to my road
Every year. Closer
to my road, and my Feet.

Smog, sidewalks, and lifeless steel.

I. Love. Thunder.

and so these huge and dark thunder clouds pleased me greatly. Don't mind my grotesque face, and awkwardly stanced body. And also please disregard the fact that Ashley is enviably tan and adorable. We were the only people for miles, and these huge clouds were rolling in, and we were jumping off of pumice mountains. It was one of the best days ever of all time.

There is just something soul stirring about being in the open where there are no people, and heaven seems to reach down and tell you it is there. This was one of those days.

Awesome

I may or may not have blinded my brother-in-law's left eye with one of these last night. The dart that hit the aforementioned eyeball may or may not have been tipped with Velcro. The battle may or may not have gone on between four grown people for more than an hour. There may or may not be darts lost in every open crevice of my and husbands apartment. I may or may not wish I was 7 years old so I could carry one of these around in a holster at all times.

The Weekend

that was really five days, so it was more of a week...but that's beside the point. My kick butt weekend started on Thursday night, and when clear to Tuesday night. I did many marvelous things, but two of them are epic, and possibly life changing.

#1 I got a new brother! He is the second handsome one on the left of the most handsome one, and on the right of the one that is in the awkward stage of life, but will one day grow to handsomeness like his brothers. (Love you Tanner) Good thing Abbie and I finish of the ends to make the family look REALLY good.

He came home from a mission in Africa, which is why I am disappointed in his lack of tan. Isn't it sunny there? And also, I was not impressed when he shoved a ketchup laden corn dog, that I happened to be enjoying, forcefully into the right side of my face, therefore making me a ketchup face.

But I am so nice that I really liked him anyway. Plus I beat him soundly in all attempted video games, so he's pretty cool.


#2 I also drew a mustache on a stick with antlers out of sidewalk chalk, and was not smart enough to know how to flip the picture the right direction without my beautiful macbook. This is by far the most epic moment of my weekend...maybe my fortnight.


ciao.
karlie jean

When I walk home

I see this
and this

And when I walk up on cold days....
I look like this


Good thing the summer makes it worth the frigid winter. I think I'll go get a slurpee.

Remembering

The word remember is one that has great significance to me in my life for different reasons, but today I want to write about remembering people.


Yesterday was memorial day. Death is not something that I have had a lot of experience dealing with on a directly personal level. Only once. Only when my young grandpa of 65 died suddenly while at work doing a remodel of an old house. I remember the disbelief, and the denial, until I remembered that families are eternal, and we are all bound together, and the separation is temporary. It gave me such peace. I don't think any other knowledge would make watching my sweet grandmother on her lonely days bearable.

I have seen several good friends deal with death at an even closer proximity. Three of my best friends in the worlds have lost parents. Two to cancer, and one to a horrible accident. These three friends dealt with it in such an incredible way. They clung to the knowledge of the Gospel, and the fact that the rest of the time in this life without them will be less than a pinprick in the line of eternity.

I have often wondered what death would feel like without this knowledge. What if I had to question whether or not I would see my precious family again? My mind doesn't wrap around it. Every feeling in my body rejects the very thought or possibility. The pain is enough with the truth. I can truly understand people who never fully recover emotionally who don't know it. I can not express the gratitude I feel for my faith, and the knowledge it brings of eternal families. I need that eternity. I have a husband that I need to spend an eternity loving and knowing. A lifetime does not yield enough time to know a person completely.

So Grandpa, today I'm thinking about you. I'm thinking about how on that last day I saw you, you woke me from my nap with one of my favorite whisker kisses. I remember your flannel shirts, and your hats that barely sat on your head. I remember how you could never tell a satisfactory joke because you would start laughing so hard before the punch line that you couldn't finish it. I remember everything. I love you. I will see you soon.
karlie jean