Let Someone Love You

“Let someone love you just the way you are — as flawed as you might be, as unattractive as you sometimes feel, and as unaccomplished as you think you are. To believe that you must hide all the parts of you that are broken, out of fear that someone else is incapable of loving what is less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight is incapable of entering a broken window and illuminating a dark room.”

– Marc Hack

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The Wave

A dream where good things went south far too fast.

I just had the most terrifying dream last night.

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I was at Ft. Myers beach, and for some reason I was with my grandma and aunt at a restaurant that apparently had really good soda. We were sitting at a table just outside the restaurant on the beach. My seat was facing the ocean, and my grandma’s and aunt’s seats were facing me from across the table.

I was listening to my grandma and aunt having some nonsensical conversation when I saw a fighter jet swoop low over the water and come to a stop. Then it started backing up and turning like it was trying to park, until it was turned so that its nose was facing the water. It dove into the water, but apparently that wasn’t what it wanted because it pulled out, backed up, then flew straight up into the air.

I was confused, but it was a dream, so of course I didn’t bother myself too much with it. I just shrugged it off and continued my conversation.

Then, without any warning, the jet rocked down into the water and blew up in a cloud of smoke, water, and debris. I watched in shock as a tsunami-sized wave erupted from the spot the jet had gone down and headed towards the beach.

I stood and pulled my grandma and aunt out of their seats, and told them we needed to go. The three of us started running, but we barely made it into town before the wave overcame us.

Everything became the wave. All I knew was that I had to survive and, more importantly, my family had to survive. As the wave was dragging us through the town, we passed by a tall fence and I grabbed on. My grandma and aunt grabbed onto my legs as they passed by, and after quite a bit of struggling, I managed to push them towards the fence so they could grab on as well.

We clung to the fence for dear life. I did my best to grab anyone who passed by and pull them to the fence, but I couldn’t get everyone. Most of the people, I couldn’t grab, and as they were dragged away, I knew they wouldn’t survive.

Some of the people who I couldn’t save were friends, and some were children. Those hurt the most.

After a few minutes, the wave passed by and the ground dried out. We sat there for a moment, trying to catch our breaths, before we all stood up and started stumbling about in different directions. I headed towards my house with my grandma and aunt, afraid that my parents might not have survived.

When we got there, our house still stood relatively whole amongst the rubble. I pushed open the door, which was partially destroyed by the water, and stepped into my house.

I was immediately bombarded by a huge hug. My parents and I cried in each other’s arms, then they did the same with my aunt and grandma. They explained how they had been sticking pictures to the wall in the corner when it happened. They told me they were afraid either I wouldn’t make it or they wouldn’t make it, so they spent what might have been their final moments taping the words “help, hope!” to the wall.

For some reason, that made complete sense to me, and I was so happy that they cared enough to do that in what might have been their final moments. Luckily, they had survived, so it didn’t matter.

My grandma and aunt went down to the basement (which somehow hadn’t flooded) to rest in the bedrooms down there. When they were gone, I asked my parents if my brother knew what had happened. They said they had no clue. He was still at college, and they hadn’t called him yet to tell him.

I had apparently lost my phone in the wave, so I found my dad’s phone and called my brother from that. When he answered, he nonchalantly said, “Hey, what’s up?”

I sighed in relief and put the phone on speaker so we could all talk to him. I asked him if he knew what had happened in Ft. Myers, and he said he’d heard something happened, but didn’t know what.

So I told him the story of what happened from the start of the dream. When I finished, he seemed panicky but calmed down when I told him we were all okay. I left when he started talking to my parents about something or other that I didn’t care about.

I went to the window and looked outside. I looked at all the people stumbling through the rubble that now made up the town. I thought of all the people that I hadn’t managed to save. I felt a tear slip free of my eye.

Then I woke up.


Picture source: DoSomething.org

Till Death do Us Part

I walk across the grass, still damp from last night’s rain. A cool breeze brushes over me and my skin breaks out in goosebumps, but I don’t try to seek shelter. Instead, I pull my beautiful dress a few more inches above the ground and keep moving. It may not be the best day, but any day is wonderful when I’m with him. I float down the aisle with perfect poise and come to a graceful stop as I reach the front.

There he is.

There is my love.

The others sit in the chairs that have been set up. I hand the flowers I had been carrying to a nearby woman before turning back to the man who has always held a special place in my heart. I smile softly, a few tears escaping as I touch his face. Then I step back as the priest begins to speak.

I remember when we first met. We were little more than children back then: crazy high school students still trying to figure out our lives and destinies. I’d been sixteen; he’d been seventeen. Everyone thought it was just one of those naïve teenage romances, but I knew better. The moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew that he was the one. No matter what, until the end of time, I would never stop loving him and he’d never stop loving me.

The priest begins to sing, and I give a soft sigh, swaying lightly in time with the music.

Our first kiss was at the high school prom. We’d been dating for nearly a year, and he’d loved me so much that he’d agreed to take it incredibly slow. That night, he worked so hard to make everything perfect. He couldn’t afford a limo, so he picked me up in his dad’s black Chrysler. It was old and not the nicest thing in the world, but to me, it was better than any silly limo. He’d brought me a corsage to match my elegant blue dress and my parents had gone crazy taking pictures. We’d had the most wonderful night dancing, and during the last song, a slow dance, he kissed me. If it were possible, I loved him even more in that moment than ever before.

I feel a hand take hold of mine. I look up at the handsome young man standing next to me and he offers a smile. I return it before turning back to the priest.

We went off to college together. He got accepted to Harvard, the genius, but he denied them in favor of going to a simple state college with me. He ignored the threats and pleas of his parents and only thought about his love for me. Everyone on the campus knew that we were the perfect couple, and no one ever tried to tear us apart. It was just something that somehow became normal. I don’t know how, but it did. We did everything together, and no one found it strange, not even the freshmen that came in every year. They would send us one glance, and then completely accept the fact that we were meant for each other.

He waited until we graduated to ask me for my hand, but not a moment after. As soon as our hats were thrown, he asked me to be his forever. And I, of course, agreed.

The priest finishes his chanting. The woman I’d handed my flowers to earlier hands them back to me. I lean forward and lay them on the altar before my love. I don’t wait for him to look at me. His eyes are closed.

We stayed married for a happy sixty-three years. We raised three wonderful children, and spoiled seven wonderful grandchildren. We even saw the birth of one perfect little great-grandchild. We worked and struggled together, we smiled and danced together. I worked in the office, and he worked as a doctor before becoming a stay-at-home dad for the kids. I earned enough so that he could do so, and it made him so happy. Every day when I came home from work, he’d pull me in for a kiss and dance me around the living room for a bit while the kids watched and laughed.

When the kids left the house, we sat on the couch, reminiscing over the past and every beautiful moment we shared. When we retired, we traveled the world together. Our last trip was to Europe, where we visited Germany, Italy, France, Greece, and Ireland. It had been so amazing. We’d been discussing going back when he was suddenly bombarded by medical issues. I remember talking to the doctors at the hospital and them telling me that we couldn’t travel anymore. He was ill and couldn’t handle it. So we stayed at home together. Eventually, we moved to a retirement home together. We’d become old and frail, but he’d still take me by the hand and dance me around the home’s living room each night.

People begin to stand and leave. I feel one more tear trace down the hollow of my cheek.

I remember that last night clearly. We were dancing around the room, just a soft slow dance, and he leaned down to kiss me one last time…

I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I’m led away from the grave.


My writing belongs to me. All writing under the category “Fiction by Me” is mine. Use of my writing without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my work for any reason, ask me for permission first.

Love and Hate

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

– Nelson Mandela in Long Walk to Freedom

Seasons of Us

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Spring days are for hopeful starts,

Blushes and giggles with longing hearts.

My simple belief that we’ll never part.

This time, I know, will be a work of art.

 

Summer afternoons we spend in the sun,

Running on the beach for a bit of fun,

Letting my hair out of its simple bun,

Sharing little kisses until the day is done.

 

imageAutumn evenings bring colors so bright,

Only tainted by constant fights.

But still, I try to believe this is right,

Even as frost begins to bite.

 

Winter nights I sit and cry,

Feeling like my heart has died.

That promise of love was all a lie.

I can’t stop asking myself, why?

 

Spring days are for new starts,

You coming back to ask for my heart.

But this time, you’re not a part.

I walk away and begin a new work of art.


 

*(Note: This was another one of my early pieces. I wrote it long before I’d ever been in a relationship, so it was really just me messing around and trying to write a love poem. I don’t know if this can be considered a love poem, but you know. It was still a beginner when I wrote this.)

Picture source: Sandra Graves/Isis Rising

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My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.

 

Miracles

“Miracles are everywhere. Miracles are goodness — sometimes showing up in the strangest ways: through people who are just passing through our lives, to dear friends who are there for us no matter what. Miracles are love. Miracles are God — and God is forgiveness.”

– Christy Beam in Miracles from Heaven

My Heart

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Watch my heart.

Watch it well.

It holds my dreams,

My love to tell.

 

Protect my heart

From prying eyes.

Keep it safe,

Gentle and kind.

 

Water my heart.

Let it grow.

Treasure it always.

Keep it close.

 

Love my heart

Forever and more.

I give it to you.

My heart is yours.


 

*(Note: I wrote this a long time ago when I was first exploring poetry and trying to decide what my style was. I don’t write poetry quite like this anymore. Nowadays, I tend to stay away from love (unless it’s lost or broken love), but I still very much like this poem.)

Picture source: Enjoying the Halcyon Days and Looking for Sea Giants

My poetry belongs to me. All poems under the category “Poetry by Me” are mine. Use of my poetry without my permission is prohibited. If you wish to use any my poetry for any reason, ask me for permission first.