Today, I will go to the same restaurant,
being sure to walk the same route- as best I can remember.
And that’s just it, I hate myself for forgetting something about that day-
but I can’t recall, what I can’t recall.
about the day that changed it all.

I tell myself to let it go, but that only serves to swell the guilt.
I can picture well his almond eyes.
But I’m not sure if that is from the pictures or actually stolen from those cherished moments I beheld them.

There is no way to love those gone in a way that feels right.
I am a bumbling awkward teen asking a girl to dance- it is painful to watch.
But just like the teen, I push away logic to reach for something grander.

Love does not go the way you thought.
It never sticks to script.
It winds and curves and heads straightway where you never wanted to go.

The ones you love will leave you, if you do not leave first.
The world around us is straining to stave off this truth.
Scurrying to control and protect and preserve.

But love is in the risking.
Acknowledging a flickering illumination of things beyond this world.
Love runs wild-eyed into the flames.
While those nearby warm themselves and wish for a love like that.

Today, I will go to the same restaurant,
being sure to walk the same route- as best I can remember.
Because I loved him.



Crawl. Walk. Run.

It’s been 4 weeks since I have written.  Or bathed. It’s been 4 weeks since Ginny’s back surgery. Thanks to all who have served us so well.  Meals have been made, laundry folded.  Sure, it’s a bit of a downer when you realize that a friend of the opposite gender folded your tightey-whiteys.  I haves [...]

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Almost. Not yet.

Sometimes I write for you. Sometimes I write for me. This is most likely the latter. It’s been quite a season in the Land ‘O Mooneys.  Many of you know that while on our trip to Michigan, Ginny re-injured her back.  And so her vacation headed more toward Purgatory than Petoskey.  [That ole trick that [...]

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Blonde hair poured over the top of the purple, floral-covered backpack that swallowed up most the rest of her, until her legs peeked out from the skirt she had laid out with precision the night before. This would be her outfit for the first day of kindergarten. She has chosen her own clothes since sometime [...]

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in the midst

Tomorrow my beloved and our three amigos will pile into Big Red and we will point that bad boy north; our annual summer voyage to Petoskey, Michigan takes about 14.5 hours according to the Google. But Google is a liar; we hustle to do it in double time. Ginny will bring out the crafts, games [...]

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Guest Post:: Atlas Girl (Emily Wierenga)

If someone sat me down and pointed the barrel near my vicinity and asked me what was my favorite genre of books….then, and only then, I would offer up “memoir” in a muffled tone. Thereafter, I would stand up and kick his butt with some Ozark ninja moves that I learned only from being on [...]

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