one half

She wasn't my mom but she helped raise me.

She has forever been one of the people that inspires me most.
She was the model of the person I wanted to be as a child.

She was the idea of high school, and all the fancy dresses.
She was the treasured thought of college, and what it would be like when I was old enough to go.

I didn't want to be a princess.
I wanted to be her.

Her chapters of life have always been my favorite to read.

She was skilled at lemonade stands.
She knew all my Barbie's names.
She was the best soccer coach.
She was a homecoming queen.
She was the prettiest girl at prom.
She was the scholarship winner.
She was the collage graduate.
She was the most stunning bride.

And now she starts one of the biggest chapters of her life,
She will be the most wonderful mom.

She carries more life inside now, than she ever has before.
This world is about to blessed with another part of her.
This world will know more of her kindness.
This little one will have all the splendor life has to offer.


She helped raise me.
But this time,
She'll be the very best, mom.

'til once again

I'll grow old with the scent of campfire, tattooed within my skin,
with paths and trails mapped upon my feet,
and a love for Jesus deep within.

I'll turn gray with rays of sunshine weaved within my hair,
with reflected water in my eyes,
and recall the anticipated breakfasts when inhaling morning air.

I'll grow hard of hearing, letting my ears remind themselves of guitars at dusk,
with stars grasped in outstretched hands,
and a summer family full of trust.

My hear will beat with those I'm connected to,
from summers I spent there,
'til once again he calls us home, and makes us all brand new.

Gram

Gram,
You were one fourth of the people who raised me. You taught me please and thank you. You taught me appreciation and guilt. And, you taught me that a good apology goes a long way. Looking back, I think I (and the other two musketeers) owe you quite a few of those.

Sorry for the excessive amounts of laundry detergent used on washing doll clothes in the sink. Furthermore, even more apologies for the mess we made on the floor, Lord knows that suds were tracked throughout the house. All I can say is we must have been fascinated by the swirling colors of blended baby clothes. (Thanks for being the one to hang them up, and take them off the line when our attention span lasted a mere ten minutes.)

Sorry for the quick evacuations after pooping in the tub.

Sorry for using you salad tongs in the toilet, after I peed, wiped, and lost my choker ring in the bowl of pee. Even more sorry for putting them back without washing them. I will say that I rinsed them off. I was seven. I didn't know better.

Sorry for making potions in the sink with all the spices in the rack. I'm in college now and would do anything for someone to buy me the hoards of spices you had.

Sorry for helping hang up the wash on line and dropping it in the gravel.

Sorry for tracing through the garden and squashing the veggies.

Sorry for begging.

Sorry for egg dye that I'm sure you're still trying to get out of something or the other.

Sorry for drawing on wall in the back room. Even if it was just that one small green line. I needed to know what it felt like.

Sorry for making your living room look like holiday elf regurgitation, with the overuse and clumped window clings. We were short. ALL of them were placed within the bottom two feet of the windows. I cringe when I think of how that must have looked.

Sorry for climbing all over your furniture.

Sorry for jumping on the bed, no matter how many times you said no, and for breaking the bed frame more than once.

Sorry for forcing you to read to us for hours at a time, and do puzzles we had done more than 100 times prior.

Sorry for throwing animals down the laundry chute.

Sorry for messing up your embroidery.

Sorry for the money you will never get back due to the mass amounts of toys purchased at the second hand store.

Sorry for eating half the raw pancake batter out of the Tupperware bowl. Every time.

Sorry for watching the same movie. Every day. For the whole summer. I know what that's like from the adult standpoint these days. It is absolutely dreadful.

Sorry for sitting in the gutter during torrential downpours and tracking mud through the house.

Sorry for the unending stream of happy-meals.

Sorry for the screaming.

Sorry for being literal tornadoes.

I'm quite sure this list doesn't cover it all.
But, in the same respects, a huge thanks is due as well. And as previously stated, I'm positive that words could never show appreciation enough for what you did for me, and what you continue to do.

Thank you for instilling a sense of guilt in me when it was needed.

Thanks for letting me sit on the kitchen counter and sift all the flour. I loved that. (Sorry I got it all over the floor).

Thank you for setting the stage with your piano skills for all living room performances.

Thanks for teaching me how to thrift, how to shop, and how to know a bargain when I see one.

Thanks for showing me that it's okay to leave out some things when talking to the men in life. They don't need to know it all.

Thanks for watching our puppet shows. I'm quite sure they would have put me to sleep.

Thanks for showing us what a real meal looks like...you shouldn't be able to see the tabletop.

Thanks for the unending supply of snacks. Even bigger thanks for the fact that you placed them in the kid friendly section of the kitchen: the bottom drawer. Growing our independence and sweet tooth simultaneously,

Thanks for the solid breakfast skills. And thanks for instilling in me what a good 'cheat' day is, by sometimes allowing our morning meal to consist of chocolate cake, a Pepsi, and a side of sprinkles.

Thanks for the energy. Every day. Despite how tired you probably were. We never knew it.

Thanks for listening with undivided attention.

Thanks for pushing me on the tire swing.

Thanks for trusting me to water your flower beds.

Thanks for the stories, and knowing when we were old enough to hear the real life ones.

Thanks for teaching me how to be nosy without being discovered.

Thanks for showing me what a good humor is, and how to let stuff roll off my back.

Thanks for teaching me how to use my mouth in more ways than one: to thank, to apologize, to gossip, to sass, and to talk smack.

Thanks for teaching me how to drink a beer from a young age, you may have not know I was watching, but I was.

Thanks for showing me how to truly dance at a wedding. No holding back.

Thanks for the years of letters.

Thanks for teaching me your charm and whit.

Thanks for providing the most sincere laughs.

Thanks for showing me how to be strong.

Thanks for loving with a whole heart.

Thanks for supporting me.

Thanks for an example of how to live.

Thanks for sharing your heart with me.

And thanks for becoming my best friend.

DNA

The very first memory I have of my life revolves around him. In shorts, my thighs stuck to our cherry red counter top. Eating a popsicle that trickled down my chin as I swung my legs back and forth. Standing 5 feet away my dad wore a charcoal gray shirt. To this day I can close my eyes and remember that question like it was yesterday. Straight from his mouth, I was asked, "what do you think, boy or girl?" I don't remember finding out I would have a sibling, but that question is forever stuck to the center of the cork board in my brain. With my childhood mind filled with princesses and barbies, the choice was easy. When the humans I knew as mom and dad pointed out that eventually she would steal everything that belonged to me, I changed my mind and fate itself.  I didn't know what I was getting into with my final decision. Toys taken were such a small token compared to growing up with the tornado of a brother.

I remember dad making me a ghost out of a kitchen towel when mom was gone, as we awaited his arrival. I remember the pink teddy from gram and the overlooked Lion King puzzle. I remember him coming home. My parents should have been given a bubble and punch card for injuries when they left the hospital.

We should have known what was coming the day he stated climbing the sides of his crib prior to turning one. We should have guessed his ruthless behavior when he found sheer joy in 'breaking' necklaces with grandpa in the basement as a baby, laughing uncontrollably, giving those YouTube 'laughing babies' a run for their money. The signs were there.

He was always far more concerned with destruction and adrenaline as a child. Those training wheels were off by age three and back flips were being accomplished by early elementary. Jumping off the top of the swing set instilled a sense of fear in the eyes of my mother. I think that was the day she knew he was an untamed spirit. Completely free.


I took on my role as a sister seriously. I helped feed him as a baby I helped teach him how to pick strawberries, only to have him squish one in the back of my shorts as I turned around. He dumped sand in my hair whenever he got the chance. Playdough was mushed into the face of every barbie I owned when I tried to show him how awesome they were. He climbed in my dollhouse. He ruined my board games. He crumpled my blanket forts. He 'colored' my favorite pages in my color books. He flung water at me when I tried to take 'awesome' adolescent pictures at our camper. And when all else failed, he pooped in the tub.  He knew where my buttons were and could push them from ten feet away.

I remember the growth of the biting child, and unfortunately still have the scar on my knee from that phase of life.

I remember towers of cardboard blocks that were taller than him alone, only to be knocked down, destroying my playschool family simultaneously.

I remember the endless sound effects.

I remember yelling at strangers through the vent in the attic and how he turned that a little more serious by shooting airsoft-guns at cars driving past.

I remember the neighbor's broken windows.

I remember the friends locked on our roof.

I remember searching for him in stores.

I remember his love for Star Wars...which was solidified by watching Episode One on repeat for hours after church and talking with Ben til he fell asleep.

I remember him standing in his underwear next to a naked tree laughing and asking for a picture.

I remember him jousting in his knight helmet in the basement.

I remember him in his bed tent.

I remember his outrageous getups.

I remember him scaling mud hills and tracking the evidence around with him for the rest of the day.

I remember the constant mess of a boy running around like a cray person. He was always sticky, and always loud. Always in his underwear. Always.

I remember hours of home videos.

I remember all his sports. Every weekend, every summer, every day. Baseball, basketball, soccer, football, hockey. You name it, he did it.

I remember years of weekends in freezing, dusty rinks.

I remember days ruined due to his injuries. Knees, ligaments, bones. We could connect the dots with his scars. Our deductible was met yearly.

He was the only kid who yearly forgot his birthday, had no idea that Christmas was coming up regardless of the decorations regurgitated upon everything, and couldn't care less about any Holiday in between

I made him walk to school when he couldn't get himself together in the morning fast enough. I remember the fights and the screaming...and then he got stronger than me.

He started to mature and interests grew deeper. His love for adrenaline and humans increased. His friends increased in multiples. He proved he could sing. He enjoyed pucks being shot at his face. His creativity shone in everything he did. He gained an interest in jumping from wake to wake in summer and over gaps of snow in the winter. He mastered tricks on things with wheels on land and behind a boat in the water.

He was always the more funny one, the one who was more athletic, he was creative, he knew how to make people laugh, and he could entertain everyone around him. He wound everyone around his finger effortlessly. He was good at whatever he tried and everything he touched turn to gold. He knew what was cool and how to draw people in, he became popular. When he had the chance to let his status and abilities get to his head, he did something nearly impossible. He shared the joy with others. He made people feel important. He made good choices around those who didn't. He became a great person, I tried to make myself believe we were even, but reality is that he outshines me in nearly every aspect of life. I had to keep reminding myself that we share the same DNA...part of that was in me too.

And then one day I got over it. Jealousy turned to pride.


He has an unbreakable spirit. He radiates inspiration so strongly that people around him can feel it pulsing through their bodies. He is one of the few left with fun and an natural high running through their veins. His laughter could be bottled and sold. His perseverance in everything he sets out to do is unwavering, never stopping to flinch for someone who doesn't believe in him. He is a human blow horn for the excitement of life. He is wild, he is crazy, he is unique, and he is strong. He cares unconditionally and loves deeply. He has endless amounts of insight and wisdom. And daily, he goes about his day like he is the most plain person, as people stand in awe.

He has the sense to strive for greatness and understands the lack of competition from the top...as most people are simply striving to be mediocre. He however has always maintained the most humble qualities. Instead of thriving and basking in his own accomplishments, he stands from the top, pulling others up next to him despite their lack.

I am beyond proud of the person he has become. Somehow he still decides to claim me as his sister regardless of how embarrassing and under-qualified I may be as a sibling. He shines brighter than anyone I know and inspires my life daily. He will go further than anyone can imagine.

Some days he still makes me feel small. When I feel mediocre standing next to him, I always know he will reach a hand down and pull me up, sharing his accomplishments and letting me enjoy the view.

Stephen, I could never thank God enough for giving me a brother like you. You will go further in life than anyone can ever imagine, and won't stop for those who don't think you can. You inspire me to be a better person and add endless amounts of happiness to my life. Thanks for all you've done and the joy you'll continue to provide. Continue to take those obstacles in your way as the smallest hurdles you've ever seen, only learning from them to run the race of life a little faster. Forever growing. Happy Graduation. I love you.

to live as i want

I want to wear ripped jeans, let my messy hair give company to my shoulder blades and hang a shirt of lace that freely flows in the wind from where it lies; eating ice cream from a cone and dancing in the sunshine, catching rays of light between my fingers and taking candid shots.

I want to create the smell of sea salt and wear it as a checkered blanket, sitting in the millions of grains of sand smaller than sight alone yet together becoming bigger than any one whole. Digging my naked feet into their darkness while staring into the blinding light of a bonfire constructed from wood drifted in from the sea. Capturing sights of sparks between blinks as they dance as fireflies.

I want my toes to know every inch of the hardwood floor personally as they dance without purpose over its surface and bring comfort to its forever presence. Letting the socks go amiss and lie in a pile lacking purpose keeping the dust company.

I want to fill my senses with warmth. To encompass all aspects of the morning mist that creeps in open windows and falls upon my toes as I sip morning tea. To breathe in the day and understand its promise. To know the wooden chair at my table so personally that I can envision it as a tree.

I want to live so violently enthusiastic that others think I'm smuggling fireworks inside. To be bold, to share joy, and love completely.

You are my sunshine.

Normally moments spent together are too precious to stall and take a picture. Hence explains the lack of those of me and my mother. Words have always proved however to emit emotion on a deeper level than the presence of a snapshot. There is not enough film to capture the moments of life in a photo. Memories and feelings aren't printed, copied, or hung on the wall. They can only be transferred from one individual to another in the act of words which will forever be diluted by the presence of time. I can try...

She carried me for nine months. Holding me close and loving me before she knew me. Others can know you for a lifetime and just then decide to love you, moms know from moment one. I came from love, to be loved, to give love. In the still moments of the morning, making her violently sick from within, she still was unmoved with love. Wrecking havoc from the inside out she loved me still.

From day one she spent mornings singing. Reminding me that I am as the sunshine, filling her life with joy. She sought out my possible passions and while being steered by her guidance, she listened for the heartbeat of desire, let me decide and then cheered me on with all she had within. Her love transferred from all the interest she had in life to anything I grew keen on. Shifting her only desire to be that of the smile on my face.

She was patient as I went through the unavoidable teen years . Sitting silently and listening, willing up advice, and waiting til they were done. Avoiding touchy subjects and treading lightly. Loving me still, as no one should have been expected to do.

All my life, she did far more than just providing what a mom is expected to. She taught me about all the things life has to offer and comforted me daily. She read to me til she could read no more. She built and invested in some of my most treasured friendships. She left me in the care of those who shared in loving me and continue to do so to this day. She introduced me to all that I have grown passionate about, and pushed me forward unnerved. She showed me the joy of  adventures in the sun, the wonder of the winter snow, how a heart loves to fall into piles of fall leaves and how fun it is to jump in puddles when the rain ruins your days.

She was the best person I could have asked to love me. She shows me what it means to care deeply and live freely. She sets my sights on positive views of life.

My mom has the spirit of summer. She holds the warmth of a mug containing morning coffee. She is the sweetness of whistling in the dark. Her desire for adventure, while wavering, will always have a place in her heart. She has an eye for beauty and knows that sometimes it is felt rather than seen. She loves openly and freely; giving all that she has in life. I am blessed to take refuge within her heart.

She is a daily reminder of why I'm here. And still she sings to me, lullabies of memories, as we collect new ones in the basket of life together. She blessed me with the gift of a lifetime of days, and yet she continues to make those days better than destiny promised and more than I could ever deserve. She has my back continually. Her only fault being that she will forever love me more than she loves herself. She is the most humble, selfless, generous and grateful person on earth, She believes all I touch is gold even though that couldn't be less true. She accepts my faults, celebrates my accomplishments, and whatever they may be, she lassos all my dreams so as to pull them just close enough for me to reach personally. If I dare fall while reaching higher, she will catch me, wipe my tears, wait til I'm ready, and then finds a ladder supporting me with full encouragement as I grasp yet higher.

She taught me how to appreciate life, and became my best friend along the way. While I can forever thank you for all you did for me, all you still do, and all that I know is yet to come; thanks is a word far too small. I am blessed to have you not only in my life, but to be able to call you mom. It is an honor to be your daughter.

lessons

Teach me to let go,
to practice flying without wings,
to be as the morning sun,
rising full of purpose and setting out unasked.

Teach me to embrace brokenness,
fix me so the light continues to shine through,
mistakes known but forgiven.

Teach me to acknowledge the beauty,
in a frosty morning cold enough to thaw the skin,
when the air is thin enough to see your aspirations exhaled in your own breath.

Teach me to wade through the stress as thick as a swamp,
to not noticed the creatures biting my ankles to slow me down,
and keep me up when the weeds pull me down.

Help me understand why people come in to my life,
those that make me deeply engaged,
and come to see why they changed me and left.

Teach me to move on,
when I am emotionally, physically and mentally,
missing my sense of self.
To wipe the slate like a chalkboard,
and to wash away any left over dust.