Friends and French Fries

Maybe using "friends" in the title of this post is over-stating it. I'm actually not a cat person at all, although the hives they give me make me think the feeling's mutual. But this was definitely one of the most adorable sights I saw while traveling, right after arriving at my hostel in Istanbul on the morning of January 6th. Asides from my view from the shuttle on the way from the airport, it was basically my first sight in Turkey and it instantly felt like I was being welcomed. Of course, it wasn't long before the two matching sweethearts ran off together.

I don't celebrate Valentine's Day and I didn't start this year. I won't bother explaining why I think it's silly, but I had a great February 14th all the same. I got the poutine I'd been craving for months– thank you New York Fries for making a gluten-free one– and M bought me a surprise copy of The Hunger Games, and picked up some delicious movie snacks like Smartfood popcorn and Stewart's root beer for me, Old Dutch Baked Ketchup chips and Pepsi for him. We watched the movie together on his still-fairly-new-pretty-impressive TV. It was my third time seeing it, and his second since I dragged him to a premiere showing when it first started. So even though there were no cards and candy and balloon animals, it was a lovely relaxing night. I hope wherever you were, and whatever you were doing, it was a wonderful day. And even thought it's nothing special on the calender, I hope tomorrow is wonderful too.

If this doesn't look delicious to you, I don't think I understand you as a person.

One Hundred

I recently stumbled across fantasy writer Darci Cole's blog, just as she celebrates 100 followers with an awesome flash fiction contest. I'm definitely not experienced with flash fiction, but I thought it would be fun to try a little piece in verse, especially considering the awesome critique prizes! The contest guidelines, found here, require that you use the word one hundred/a hundred/hundredth/etc and that it is 300-500 words, posted on your blog. The prompt is the photo below, followed by my response! Good luck to the other contestants, and I hope you enjoy my entry.

source, author

I’d taken the path

before
on summer days
when sweat tingled
on the backs of my thighs
and popsicles would melt
before even touching
my lips.

Sometimes,
if I was lucky,
he’d come with me.

When he didn’t,
when I walked alone
the cement hills
blurred into each other
like the curves of my hips
where they met
my stomach.

I couldn’t help the acidic wash
that flowed backwards
up my throat
and coated my mouth
with nerves.

But somehow I spoke,
and maybe he would laugh
lean his cheek
against mine
and whisper thoughts
like secrets
into my ear.

I missed you,
he'd say
when his shift at the gas station
gave him time
to walk me to the country club
where I served sandwiches
with perfect corners
to men
with perfectly trimmed beards.

Their facial hair
barely hid their grins
when I bent over to pick up a
lost
fork or spoon.
But they tipped well,
and this job was only a gateway
to college

far away.

He walked me down the path,
and once,
as August crept into being,
he took my hand
and pulled me
from the road
into the grass,
still damp from morning dew.

Careful.

I ran my fingers
over the pressed white fabric
of my uniform,
and he put his hand
over mine.
And I was still.

I’m not
the careful type,
he told me,
and his mouth,
pink as a blush,
pressed itself against mine.

My hand tightened
and then relaxed
as the kiss stretched
the way the sun sets
across the sky
with every inky colour
leaving a goodnight lullaby
for the world.

Once again,
his mouth told me
secrets,
but I didn’t listen
to the way
most of the time
he didn’t have time
for me,
the way his phone
always buzzed
in his pocket
as we kissed.

Afterwards,
I checked my skirt
for grass stains
but I forgot to check
my heart.
Not that I could have
scrubbed away the mark
he’d left.

It was almost,
exactly,
six weeks later–
not that I was counting.
September had come,

and it was less than twelve
more months
until I could leave.

Maybe I didn’t want to.

It must have been
a hundred kisses later,
maybe more.

He walked me to work,
maybe because he knew
I’d have to be the one
who left.

I was wearing white.
Somehow that feels ironic
for how tarnished
I felt
as his mouth left
my lips
only to whisper

goodbye.

When I left work,
as the sunset smeared
across the sky,
I had to remind myself
that I’d taken this path
before.
The bright glare of a car
passed me,
blurred by my tears,
and for a moment
I thought it was him.

It wasn’t.

But the path was familiar,
I’d find my way
home.

Back From The Other Side (Of The World)

I just got back yesterday, after a month of travel, to Montreal and Israel and Istanbul and Oman and Bahrain; so I haven't really had a chance to go through my photos properly or think about blogging or writing in any real clear way. Being away is good for some things: learning, experiencing, inspiring, but horrible for others: mainly actually getting things done. I feel like it'll take me a little while to get back into things. And that's okay. Sometimes I think we forget that we all deserve a break. Even though I know I'll have to work extra hard on school-related stuff now, even though I missed my boyfriend and my bed and my apartment, the experiences and memories I have are irreplaceable.

I stopped writing this post to find one photo to share. Just one. A single photo to sum up the last month. Nearly an hour later, I have nothing. A photo, even if it is worth a thousand words, is still not enough.

Still, I keep coming back to this moment, as I touched the Western Wall in Jerusalem for the first time:

Just one moment, but what a memorable one it was. I am so incredibly lucky.