this is my chance

the sixth installment in a week-long series exploring the rituals of starting again

in the voice of candace, 18 years old

cut it off.
just cut it all off.
really short.
i want it really short.
i've had long hair my whole life, and i'm sick of it.
you know what?
can we dye it, too?
blonde.
well, white blonde.
just the tips, though.
let's do that.
this is good.
this is gonna be good.
this is gonna feel like me.
i want to walk in there and feel like me.
this is my chance.
i need to do it now or it'll be too late.
once people meet you one way, you're stuck.
i don't want to be stuck the way i am now.

an offer of help (softened with a sprinkle of movie)

part six in a week-long series all about the rituals of being friends

in the voice of two new characters, gary and tim

hey man how's it going
it's alright man how're things with you
can't complain
yeah
well i could but wouldn't nobody listen so
i hear that
nice out here right
oh yeah
wouldn't want to be the one to have to cut this grass though
need a tractor mower for this place
something
welp
hmmm
[insert movie quote here]
[insert movie quote rejoinder here]
[insert laughter here]
so y'all gonna move again?
ah i don't know
yeah
[insert movie quote here]
[insert movie rejoinder here]
i don't know we're trying to figure out somewhere a little bit cheaper but there ain't much out there man
yeah
i don't know
what kind of stuff are you lookin' for
what kinda house?
house job both
oh anything really anything for either one
i hear you
yep
well let us know if y'all are movin' and you need some help i know jennie can't be carrying anything
thanks man thanks appreciate that
yep no problem man just let me know

one hundred and seven puzzles

in celebration of july 31, the anniversary of the day my husband and i got married, this week’s blog posts will be about the ways we mark the passage of time.


in the voice of a new character, john

i have one hundred and seven.

one hundred and seven that are complete.

i hang them on the walls of my shed out back.

but i might move them here to the house if i can convince janet.

i probably can't convince janet.

that's okay.

they look good in the shed.

they're all the same size, so they fit together real good on the walls.

i only do 5,000 piece puzzles.

40 by 60, not 42 by 62.

i like them all to be the same size.

i do one every month, you know.

mostly i work on them at night, after supper and before i watch the eleven o'clock news.

i have to stop at 10:47 because it takes me thirteen minutes to brush and floss my teeth before the news comes on.

i like to watch the news in bed, and i don't want to have to get up out of bed to do my teeth after the news is over.

sometimes it's hard to stop when i'm in a pivotal place in the puzzle, but i do.

i always stop at 10:47.

or earlier.

this one is from february, but i don't remember what year.

i know it's from february though because i was cold when i worked it.

that part there in the trees was really hard, and i remember i was wearing my orange gloves when i was trying to get it done.

it's hard to work a puzzle with gloves on.

but i needed to have them on anyway because it was really cold in the house because i forgot to pay the heat bill for a few months in a row and they cut the heat off.

i was kind of a mess then because janet had left me.

she left in november, and i didn't pay the bill for november, december, january, or february.

february is when they finally cut it off, when i was working this puzzle.

eventually, i paid it all and they cut the heat back on and janet came back in april when i was doing this puzzle over here with the tower of london on it.

that was a long time ago.

i'm running out of room out here in the shed.

maybe i'll try asking janet again about hanging my puzzles in the house.

it smells like forever

he walks in the room loud as a thunderstorm but happy, if you can imagine that.  i watch his smile creep up on him and when he laughs, i rush over to be nearby so i can grab up some of that laughing and rub it between my hands.  i make a glowing ball out of it, and put it in my mouth so i can carry it around for a little while.  he puts his arm around me, and it's fuzzy as ever.  i snuggle my face in the crook of his elbow and before i know it, i am off the ground, in the air, a little bit dizzy, a little bit breathless.  he pops the ceiling off the house with his left hand, and i can see the treetops getting closer, getting farther away, getting closer, getting farther away.  the light between the leaves makes my eyes feel funny.  i open my mouth wide to catch the fun in the air, and some of his laughter glow escapes my mouth when i do.  some of my own laughter pops out, too.  just as suddenly as it began, it stops, and i press my face into his soft, old t-shirt to get my bearings back.  i inhale deeply, and i feel safe here where it smells like forever.

proud

my daughter is finding her voice right now.
she is 3 months old.
i listen to her gurgles and coos and of course her cries.
many, many cries.
her crying is upsetting to me, of course.
i'm her mama, and i want her to be happy.
and the kind of crying she's doing isn't happy crying.
but i'm also proud of her wailing.
she is expressing herself.
she is telling the world what she needs, in the only way she knows how.
she isn't doing it in a mean way.  or with an intention to hurt anyone else.

but she is doing it without apologies, without embarrassment, without tempering her feelings in order to please anyone else.
she doesn't get that from me.
but i hope i learn it from her.