ta ta for now!

The other day, my father was going out and he agreed to pick up some books at the library for me. {I had put a hold on quite a few books but I thought only a couple had come in.}
Turns out, all 11 of my books were in. Plus one that my sister had put a hold on. Hahaha!
He called to complain that we hadn't told him that he would need a furniture dolly. XD


{From top to bottom: Selected Poems of Carl Sandburg, Selected Poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay, Madam, Will You Talk? by Mary Stewart, Miss Clare Remembers by Miss Read, The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale, My Own Two Feet and A Girl From Yamhill both by Beverly Cleary, Bloomability by Sharon Creech, The Fairacre Festival by Miss Read, The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti, and The Complete Poems of e. e. cummings.}

Anyhow, my family and I are leaving for vacation tomorrow. We're going to stay in a chalet by a lake! I'm very excited because it's my favourite kind of vacation: a relaxing kind where you don't have to go running all over looking at the sights. So, I'm planning on reading a lot, in case you hadn't guessed. I'm also hoping to write and, of course, hang out with my awesome family!
I'll be back in about a week. A bientôt!! :)

{the night of my grandmother's party}

Silently, I sat at the table.
My left-hand neighbor had gone. My right-hand neighbor chatted gaily to her right-hand neighbor about places I'd never been.
The people across from me were happily engaged in a conversation that I could have joined but I had no desire to.
I looked around the capacious tent that held all the people talking and laughing. So many people... I wished they would all go home so I could have peace.
I sat dully, listening to the chatter.
Darkness enclosed the tent. It seemed like a friendly dark... a dark that was beckoning me...!
Without a second thought I stood up, with one object in mind: to escape.
Doubting anyone would notice me leave or give much thought to it, I made my way outside.

I looked back at the lighted tent, happy with the knowledge no one would miss me.
I stepped further into the darkness. Childishly, I jumped through the tree that was divided in the middle so that its shape resembled a giant "Y".

Down the garden path I walked. The ground was cold and damp beneath my bare feet. {I had abandoned my shoes long ago.}
I walked to the garden's edge where trees, bushes, and vines formed a thick bramble. There I stopped.
Though still in view of the lighted tent, no one could see me.
Staring up into the dark sky, which was punctuated by a full moon, I felt a pleasing sense of solitude slip over me.
The beauty of the night, the joy of seclusion, and the romance of the outdoors intoxicated me. An inspirational emotion washed over me... filling me with the need to write or sing!
Since I had neither pen nor paper, I started to softly sing.
The songs were sad but I sang them because I was happy.
Only the trees heard me and the night hid me from prosaic eyes.

Eventually, I knew I had to go back.
With a regretful sigh, I gathered my skirts and made my way back to the noise and brightness.{Making sure to jump through the "Y" tree again.}
Quietly, I resumed my seat at the table. But I felt different. I felt exhilarated after my impulsive excursion. I even successfully made conversational efforts. I smiled and talked late into the night.
Though in the back of my mind, I still was blissfully singing in the darkness, immeasurable happy.


{Painting: "The Girl Under the Magic Moon" by Darren Daz Cox.}

the pearls

"Abbie, I want ye to have the pearls. I'm savin' the fan for Mary. Janet has the breast-pin, you know, and Belle the shawl. {...} And the pearls are fer you. Ye'll ne'er starve as long as ye have 'em." She opened the little hairy-skinned chest and took out a small velvet box and from it the pearls themselves. She twined them through her short stubby fingers, their creamy shimmers incongruous in the plump peasant hand.
{...}
There were tears in Abbie's brown eyes when she took them. {...} She held the pearls up to the wine-colored merino and looked in the small oblong glass.{...}Then she turned to her mother. Her face was flushed and tender. "Thank you Mother... so much,... I'll keep them always. But with the dark dress and the high neck,... I'll just not wear them tonight. After awhile when Will and I are wealthy, I'll wear them. And {...} maybe we'll have a daughter some day and she can wear them on her wedding night,... in white satin...and all the things that go with it..."
Abbie swept across the dingy loft room, {...} She knelt down by her mother's chair, {...}, and laid her head against the older woman's.

"And besides, Mother, you understand, don't you... when you follow your heart you don't need pearls to make you happy?"

-Excerpt from A Lantern in Her Hand by Bess Streeter Aldrich
(the {...}'s represent edits I made for brevity's sake)

{Pictures taken by me.}

Unspoken annoyance.

"You look beautiful tonight."
"It's lovely to see you."
"I love you, dearest. Be mine!"
Would all have been acceptable things to say to me tonight.
Instead you are staring... at me, I presume. Though perhaps you are just blanking out.

I know you haven't lost your voice, please don't act as though you have.
Pardon me, if I bore you why don't you go find someone else to dance with? I'm sure you have scores of girls simply waiting for you to fling them a crumb. Heaven knows, I am not such a puppy.
Do I detect a hint of one of your superior, amused smirks?
It's not as if we've never met before. Remember me? I've known you since we were children!
This song seems to drag on forever.
Please say something. I'm nervously chattering on like a loon! I'm sure I'm living up you your expectation of me.
Finally! The dance is ending. Now I shall awkwardly pull myself away; mumbling inconsequential things and tripping over my feet.
Ah well, I suppose it could have been worse... But I wouldn't bet on it.

{Picture: "An Elegant Soiree" by Victor Gilbert.}