Selected Memories.

I remember playing tag at recess and giving the boy I liked an Indian burn. I thought it was love. 

I remember sitting in laundry baskets while my dad pushed me around the house.
I remember the Fourth of July and the Buttler's house. My mom had short hair, and so did I. We were twins. 

I remember hiding in the corn rows of our garden pretending I was lost in Africa. You could always see me and I always told you to pretend you didn't.

I remember showing you how to kiss. We were laughing so hard. 

I remember making blanket nests. I was 5 and you were 7. We both wanted to be birds. I was a blue one and you were purple. 

I remember waking up and wising my eyes never opened again.
I remember the first year you said, "This was going to be our smallest Christmas." 

I remember you said I must be the smartest girl in my class because I knew how to spell the word, hospital. 

I remember selling candy on the street. Everything was melted. I remember lying and saying it wasn't. 

I remember when my dad slapped me. I was making an egg salad sandwich. 

I remember the first time I made out. 

I remember when I liked Pokemon but didn't tell anyone.

I remember making pancakes in the basement because my sister asked me to. I hid the griddle in my room for weeks. 

I remember when my brother got suspended because his friends dared him to go in the girls bathroom.
I remember when all the girls asked me if I wore a bra or not. 

I remember when the worst word I knew was crap.

I remember meeting at LP pond. You were shaking so bad. I borrowed my brothers bike to get there. 

I remember being alone. I remember how real it was.
I remember sitting at the cemetery and wanting to talk out loud but being too much of a coward to do it. I left my mittens there on purpose. 

I remember when we watched the Magic School Bus for science.
I remember listening to Death Cab for Cutie the summer of 2012. 

I remember the first time I snuck out. We went to sliding rock. The water was freezing. 

I remember when you told me you could hear me crying at night. 

I remember when $100 was a lot of money. 

I remember having a crush on my cousin and feeling very nervous about it. 

I remember less than I probably should.

Just this.

There’s something thrilling about children with gold hair. They calmly, simply, merely, wait for something remarkable in the making. Hands cupped into binoculars, looking through child-hood eyes, they’re dripping with youth. Fragrance of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, spill from the roof of their mouths; and roll over the tops of their teeth. Honey sweet magic on their lips; thick like melted chapstick. Endless summer days, lined with crooked teeth and sun-kissed bare legs. Skin burning red.  Hair gold and long, with those fingers gold and strong. Waiting for mother; chasing butterflies. Facing laced lies. Scanning for spies. Planning for the prize. Covered in skies, fries, supplies and allies. 

Look both ways when crossing.

I swore I would post something earlier this week.
Here we go again.



-My uncle asked me today if I'm money hungry. I looked at him and said, "I guess I am."
He said to be careful.

You know, it's funny what time can do.
What it can do to people and minds. And how I've managed to manipulate and warp time into my hands.
Right between each finger, and under my fingernails.

Playing wild cards and dealing them out; each drunk and written with conspiracy.

I rub out the practicality
and sting of it all

Cradling the familiar indents impressed into me. Creating painful spaces between you and me; and my fingers and fingernails. Licking my chapped and cracked bones. Cracked lips.

Cracked me.

Bleaching my blonde hair even blonder with the chemicals  pressed into my roots.
Pressed into me.

Tired secrets and tired scenes; smeared on the outer most extent of my skin. Pealing with pride and prudent pleasure. The kind of pleasure that promises you interest. The kind that possesses your darkest emotion. All wrapped in box and bow.

Timid and unsure I crawl home with my heavy elbows and knobby knees; into my hardly involved bed. I count back and think; "I've forgot to measure the distance; yet I know how far I've gone. How far we've separated".
How much I've changed.

My skin to scales. My personality to pay checks.
Gripping for mercy

And time.

My knuckles and static hair infatuated with the delivery of selected love. Collecting my sweat and anxiety. Labeling them, organizing them into files.
Stored away for the spring.
Only increasing their numbers. The heat and pressure of this all; weighing my shoulders.
Weighing my eyelids.
 
While I continually count faces and tap my knees out of habit.



I'm different and time is unchanging. I'm changing and wishing for Lord knows what. It's funny what I blame on time; and how it's power hungry and I'm power drained.
We are a beautiful team.
I have a beautiful system


Teach me to write and I'll give you anything.
-s

This wasn't about shoes. Sorry. I really tried to get it out of me, but it just wouldn't come.

Lullaby ll

I'd let all my dreams
Dry up
For you to be happy
If that's enough

For you
To be happy
For now...

And now that all of my dreams
Have dried up,
You're running through daisies
And that's enough

For me
To be happy
To be happy
To be happy
For now...

-BR

Experience is Expensive.

Selected Memories:
 

Strolling down the street, barefoot, with our pride tied to the tips of our hair; selling candy on the corner street. Overpriced, lafy tafys and melted chocolate Kit-Kats. We didn't make much money, and I swear it was more for my mom to have the kids out of the house than for us to learn what it’s like “earning a living.” I never took that seriously though. I knew my dad sat in an office, next to a grey copy machine. The fan and air conditioning blowing his eyes dry. Dazed from computer screens and scenes of office meetings. I didn't understand how sitting in a wheely chair at a desk was earning a “living.” I still would much rather sit outside, with the sun burning freckles to my shoulders, selling candy than sit in an office with the door shut. Fingers typing typing typing. I earned my living by breaking the neighborhood record for the longest time anyone could hang upside down. I earned my living by planting flowers in my window. I earned my living the way I wanted to live. 

***

Sitting in the back of the car, hands white and feet folded two times over. You had the guitar in your lap, strumming the same chord on repeat; while I breathed automatically. I had an aching sadness in my being that night. I was reverent and reasonable. You played me magic and hope between the strings of your guitar. We almost kissed that night. You said you wanted to. I said it was a bad idea. You were honest.

***

Driving too fast, blasting Taylor Swift and screaming lyrics straight out of our hearts.  Out looking the city and the colors. I saw it all in your eyes. Roof climbing and park swinging. We were reckless and young. We had wood chips jammed between our toes and grass in our hair. We climbed everything taller than us. We let our spirits fly high that night. It was my birthday and we all screamed when it was midnight. I was an adult but have never acted so childlike. 

***

I find love in the image of my dad hunched over our kitchen table. His white Sunday shirt on, un-buttoned at the sleeves, recklessly rolled up. His feet one place over the other.  His wire framed glass sitting at the edge of his nose, dancing with gravity. He's dipping his carrots in a little blue plastic bowl; that's meant for infants who are learning about the American romance with food. He's 42, with twin two year old boys. He's still learning what it means to be a father and I'm still learning what it means to be his daughter. 

***

This is me.
I'm a romantic.
I'm a realist.
I'm an extremist.
I'm lost and tired of high school.
I'm home sick. 

I'm happy to be alive.
I'm a lot more.
I'm a lot less.



Thanks for listening.


-Sarah Thueson 

xoxo

Please God

Someday he will see

You

For you and he will love.

All.

Because God himself said go.

And you won't ever stop.

.

Remember when we lay there in the black night, cooling skin heating the twin sheets.
We pushed our beds together and for some reason I felt okay.
I told you about my heart and my head and all things in between.
You told me I was good enough.
I was good enough
I was better
Than it all.
Ever since that night you heard me cry and you really heard me I have loved you.

Remember when I walked alone through the stagnant darkness to his house.
All I wanted was you.
And you came.
You came running as fast as you could.
And you were there.
I never wanted to let go of you.
Of all of you.
I will never let go of you.

Once you said you were thinking about becoming old and looking back on these days and smiling because they are filled with me and you and the world.

I didn't believe because boys, and kisses, and parents, and moves, and best friends, and time, and life came in between.

But somehow I always ended up back on your curb.

I don't know if you will ever know how big I smile when I think over our years.

But it's my best smile. My biggest.

You know the one.

Love-

Gwen.