tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19518404479373971992024-03-18T21:08:43.523-07:00To Dream Is To BelieveDeborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-87428733428094155682016-11-11T14:11:00.002-08:002017-01-25T12:28:50.548-08:00The Day I Was CategorizedI have been a woman my whole life, but I never felt quite as defined by it as I did Wednesday November 9th, 2016, the day after Trump was elected President of the United States of America.<br />
In my life as a flight attendant, I have grown used to being in the public eye. <br />
Being "on" at all times, no matter how tired or cranky you are, is a part of the job description.<br />
But something had changed in the waning moonlit hours of the previous night, and when the sun rose that morning its light shone in newly exposed cracks and crevasses. <br />
The world was now on edge, myself included, and I was about to be joined by one-hundred forty-two of its inhabitants in a narrow, enclosed airplane.<br />
<br />
As I walked down the aisle that morning to secure the cabin for flight, I felt keenly aware of two-hundred eighty-four eyes on me.<br />
Watching me.<br />
Paying attention.<br />
How will a woman react in the light of this new morning, the first light of the U.S. under a perceived Trump administration?<br />
This is my effort to explain the change.<br />
<br />
It was subtle as a breeze and powerful as a punch, all in the same swing. <br />
I was an act on a stage surrounded by the people who had just voted to elect a self-proclaimed bigot into the highest office of the United States of America.<br />
Politics aside, he has set a standard, stated a loud permission and been praised.<br />
I have been a woman since the day I was born, and Wednesday America told me that my womanhood should still be what defines me.<br />
I am a minority.<br />
I am categorical.<br />
I can be summed up and placed on a shelf, shoved to the back and silenced.<br />
Even though I refuse to listen, I still hear.<br />
<br />
I couldn't help but grieve alongside all other minorities with multiple strikes against them-woman and black, woman and lgbtq, woman and disabled.<br />
I grieved the blessings we have that can easily be taken away.<br />
I grieved our constant battle to be seen.<br />
I grieved the way we have to always watch our back.<br />
I grieved that we are still fighting for respect.<br />
I grieved that my grievances are the least of them all.<br />
I grieved the way it had began to feel so normal.<br />
I am only fighting one battle, and a privileged one at that.<br />
I don't have to worry about my skin color, my socioeconomic identity, or how my sexual orientation is perceived and scrutinized.<br />
We have made it so much worst for so many.<br />
<br />
In that same moment I realized my power to make a difference.<br />
To listen to those who are different. <br />
To speak up on behalf of myself and all the other women I will subconsciously represent.<br />
Not for them, but with them. <br />
To fight against the fists continually threatening to shove us back in the corner.<br />
I realized my responsibility.<br />
For if not I, than who?<br />
<br />
That mornings flight ended up being delayed on the tarmac for two hours.<br />
Three times we pushed back from the gate and three times we had to return.<br />
With each departure my coworkers and myself walked through the aisle and secured the cabin. Everyone aboard was rightfully tired and antsy to be on their way.<br />
There was an older white gentleman in the exit row who, on our third attempt to push back from the gate, was understandably less than ecstatic about complying with the rules for electronics.<br />
I asked him to please unplug his device for take-off and he got snippy.<br />
"Oh, are we actually going to push back this time?"<br />
"Well, that's what they tell me."<br />
A feigned humourous attempt to keep it light.<br />
"How about I wait to unplug until after we actually push back?"<br />
A sentences drenched in the voice of snoody annoyance.<br />
My voice got quiet, steady, calm and firm in its reply. <br />
I looked him in his two eyes.<br />
"How about you unplug right now."<br />
A respectful and demanding suggestion.<br />
He met my gaze and quietly said, "OK."<br />
<br />
This behavior unfortunately happens often, but that morning it shook me in a way that it hadn't before.<br />
My body literally trembled.<br />
To be blatantly disrespected as a voice of authority in my work establishment.<br />
To be challenged.<br />
How many times have I had to fight to be taken seriously?<br />
How many times have I instinctively fake laughed at derogatory comments disguised as jokes or felt my body invaded by the creeping eyes of an ill-wishing stranger?<br />
How many times have I ignored unacceptable behavior, choosing to be 'polite' rather than firm?<br />
How many times have I allowed the world to treat me different because I am a woman?<br />
<br />
No longer.<br />
I refuse to be taken advantage of.<br />
I should not have to prove myself time and again, but I will.<br />
If that is what it takes for us to be heard, I will.<br />
I will rise above.<br />
I will continue to demand the respect that we deserve by willfully giving it to others.<br />
I will lower my voice and meet their gaze.<br />
I will speak in a whisper if that is what it takes to be loud.<br />
I will be calm, I will be steady and I will be firm.<br />
Every single time.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-31896884596476965242015-10-22T11:11:00.003-07:002015-10-22T11:16:35.923-07:00My Grandpa's Hands<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His hands told the story of the long dusty road, of changing
tires on big wheels and gripping mugs of diner coffee in the middle of the
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved those hands, the hands of
my grandpa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They taught me how to play
“Johnny Whoop” and challenged me with unsolvable riddles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They refused to shave his chin before a visit
so he could greet us with his “Whisker Kisses” sending shivers down our arms
and reminding us that we were loved enough to plan for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His hands turned up the volume on the T.V. so his deaf ears
could hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When grandpa was around it
was the only time we could have the T.V. so loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His hands mischievously heaped mounds of my mom’s homemade
jam onto homemade biscuits while my grandma yelled at him for eating too many
sweets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hands kept heaping on the
jam as though they couldn’t hear a thing, completely disconnected from grandmas
yelling by his “deaf” ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead they
would just pour another steaming cup of coffee from his Stanley thermos to cut
through the sweet of the jam, a delightful balance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His hands saved his life in middle age when he had a
hemorrhage in his leg while driving his truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Those hands pulled his body out of the cab and across the parking lot to
find help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He spent weeks in the
hospital recovering and every night his or the hands of my grandma would have
to rub special lotion on his leg to keep the blood flowing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every thirty minutes those hands lit a cigarette and brought
it his mouth, the cigarettes that would eventually kill him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the way lighting those cigarettes
made him smell like the perfect combination of smoke and coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those hands held the vices that made him
smell like my grandpa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still smell him
today when I walk passed a lighted cigarette or bring an especially strong cup
of coffee to my mouth. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I went to view my grandpa after he died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They laid him on a table in the middle of a
strange room in Cortez, Colorado.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
wearing his usual flannel tucked into belted polyester pants that hung just
over the tongue of his work boots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
still wearing his glasses and his hands were laid neatly by his side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These were not the lively hands of my grandpa
which would fly towards me as I was causally walking passed, just to see if
they could surprise me and get a reaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They usually did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These hands
looked more like a clay imitation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
were lifeless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would never again point
at my grandpas eyebrows as he wiggled them in opposite directions or make a cat’s
cradle out of the yard I had plans to crochet into a hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wouldn’t roll marbles or toss jacks or
pull me in for a hug and an agonizing two seconds of whisker kisses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would never again smell like the perfect
combination of coffee and cigarettes and engine oil and homemade jam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They could never again show me that they
loved me, I would just have to remember and believe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-49823746789038126472015-06-17T17:59:00.000-07:002015-06-17T18:07:47.401-07:00Springtime <span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I've become enchanted with nature again. Not just appreciative, truly enchanted. The spaces between tree trunks fill with the fingers of the sun. The sharp edges of the mountains cloaked in early mornings pink hues. Heads of dandelions dotting the thick green grass. The ceiling of leaves which covers me as I sit, stroll, sprint across the earth. </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">It's enchanting to me. </span>Again. Finally. Something came alive inside of me which made everything outside of me come alive too. <br />
Again. <br />
Finally.<br />
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Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-62024116078536693862015-05-22T14:40:00.000-07:002015-05-22T15:12:17.749-07:00Second Entry into Series: "Stories of People I Have Encountered" <div style="text-align: center;">
One More Round</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last week I had the pleasure of flying four day trip with
two lovely coworkers. The man in his
late forties, quiet with a kind voice, made everyone around him feel a little
calmer. He was in the army for ten years
before working as a CSA in Fairbanks. He
met a woman on the job, a flight attendant which he actively pursued and
married within six months. They knew right away the way you can only know
right away. For a short time they lived
a honeymoon life working and flying together before taking the big leap to have
children. Now they work completely separate
schedules and might be home one night a week together. It is for the kids. He says it keeps things fresh. He carries a wallet
size photo of his family with him at all times and pulls it out whenever they
come up in conversation. I saw him do
this at least twice a day. We had
briefly worked together once or twice, but this was the first significant
amount time we had spent together. We
worked in the back of the airplane together.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The lady was up front in first class. In her late fifties she could have passed for
early 40s having taken good care of her body.
She doesn’t run but rather climbs on the treadmill and got fourth place
in a body building competition when she was fifty. She has barely any wrinkles on her face. She used to commercial fish for 25 years in
Alaska with her now ex-husband, the last of which they did together for the
children even though their marriage had ended.
Her heart is light and she is just beginning to date again, after
fifteen years devoted solely to motherhood.
This was my first time meeting her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The three of us were starkly different. I am a young mid-twenty with no family of my
own and a pattering of life experience.
I have done a lot for my age. I
can be both loud and shy in one breath and while my life is coursing down a path,
I often feel I have no direction. I
hoard all the newspapers the customers recycle and tear out the Crosswords and
Sudoku’s. I am happy to be left alone on
the jumpseat filling in tiny squares on black and white paper while my coworkers
lovingly tease me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
And so together the three of us worked a four day trip,
flying up and down the west coast and throughout Alaska. We got along swimmingly, each pulling their
own weight, not asking too much of the others but stepping up to help as soon
as they saw it was needed. The work was
relaxed and warm and we ended each day with energy to spare, a rare luxury.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The last night of our trip had us laying over in sunny
Sitka, Alaska. We landed in the
afternoon and went our separate ways with loose plans to meet for drinks later,
each unsure if the others would show.
The day passed, we wore ourselves out walking and running and exploring
and when the hour to meet arrived so did we.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
“I hardly ever go out with the crew” we whispered to each
other. “I usually just tell them I am
going to work out and I’ll see them in the morning.” “Me too.”
“Me too.” “Let’s get another
round of Makers Mark.” “OK.” “OK.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
In this way the hours passed. We talked about family, about God, about
taking risks and making mistakes. We
heaped compliments on each other and at one crucial moment in the evening, a
few drinks in, we all clasped hands and told each other how much we like and
respect each other and how this has been one of the best crews yet. It felt the way it does to deepen
relationships and not just pass the time.
It felt like personal growth and community growth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
They told me how impressed they were by me for my age and I
listened with interest to their stories and their advice. We went to our rooms a little dizzy but also
a little more connected. It wasn't anything incredibly special or deeply life changing. And yet it was. It was community. I now know that
there are two more people in the world who have my back. I now know that there are two more people in the
world that I will, in turn, be looking out for. In
the meantime, let’s have one more round with Mr. Mark.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-77943850865411039442015-05-20T19:48:00.000-07:002015-05-21T12:35:12.542-07:00Grains of GraceIt’s been a while since I have posted. It’s been a while since I have written. It’s been a while since I have felt, for lack of a better word, capable.<br />
But I am lucky. I have a slew of people who believe in me. I have friends who are constantly encouraging and gently reminding me that I should get back to the proverbial table, that I have something to offer.<br />
<br />
Some of my setbacks include a lack of time (who doesn't struggle with this?), lack of education (specifically devoted to writing), and lack of direction (but if you build it, won’t they come?). I've been reminded recently of three important facts. First, that sometimes the things I write will suck, but recognizing what sucks and what has potential means that I am progressing. Second, that writing is for me, and no one else. I am more stable and grounded when I take time to create. And Third, that I have a unique perspective, if only because it is mine alone and no one else’s, and that is reason enough to share it.<br />
<br />
Even though I have been slacking there are a couple of ways in which I have not been failing. I joined a writing group. I get together once a month with a few new and dear friends. We share what we have written, we come up with prompts for next time, we drink wine and talk about life. It is hardest to grow when you are working at it alone. The perspectives of these ladies along with their own unique and personal work is encouraging and rewarding. I am lucky to be audience of their inner most thoughts and fortunate that mine are safe with them. <br />
<br />
I have also been reading, selectively choosing authors with perspectives I admire and words that challenge. These works range from old poetry, to newer novels, to the blogs of friends. I must say the work I am most spurred on by are the authors who write about writing. The ones who remind me that it is a process, that their works did not unfold overnight, and that they, like me, had to start somewhere. I was lucky enough to travel with one such writer and friend who has a lovely blog that can be found <a href="http://www.jacksontandy.com/">here</a>.<br />
<br />
My last area of focus that has helped spur me on is the life I live every day. I have been working hard to listen to what it is people are saying when they speak and when they are silent. I have been traveling far and wide to witness different ways of life and to see the beauty we are lucky to be surrounded by. I have been making big decisions like who to date and who not to date, what car to buy and which shop to trust to fix it, what foods to put in my body and how often a week can I logistically expect myself to work out, should I wake up to an alarm in the morning or let myself sleep until my eyes open on their own. Every day holds countless decisions and every action holds at least one reaction. I am trying to be aware of them. I am trying to be aware of my life as it passes me by, this is tricky because life can be quick. <br />
<br />
I don’t always succeed at what I attempt to do and I don’t always make the best decisions. I am not always the slowest to speak and sometimes the only thing to eat is pizza. In everything there is a grain of grace. In everything we can find the atoms that create our one and only life. It is so sweet to put it into words. It is sweeter still to have seen it in the first place.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-65133470333179163782015-01-23T09:56:00.003-08:002015-01-23T10:44:59.818-08:00First Entry into Series: “Stories of People I Have Encountered” "A Man In An Airport Café"<br />
I met a man at the airport who let me share his table, paid for my meal, and wanted nothing in return. Let me back up.<br />
I had just spend the whole month of December and better part of January visiting family and friends for the holidays. When you can fly for free, people expect that it’s no big deal for you to come to them all the time, and you are happy to try. Until you reach the end of a 5 week period and realize that you have only spend 5 days at home. No wonder you are so exhausted.<br />
<br />
My last trip was over to Coeur D’Alene, Idaho to visit my dear from Saryl and her honey and meet up with a new friend now close to us all. We spent the weekend making forts, drinking St Germane, and learning to ski (only I learned to ski, sweet Saryl taught me how, the rest knew already). It was a lovely, cozy, snowy weekend and it was all I could to rustle up enough energy to be present with my dear friends as we danced to “Pump Up the Jam” and had late night whispers under chair legs and raised bed sheets. When I left my heart was full, my energy level was empty. <br />
<br />
I got to the Spokane airport a little early, bought some relaxing tea and when to find a place to sit and read my book. That’s when I noticed two things: 1) both flights in my little terminal were delayed an hour, including mine, and 2) I was hungry. After some debate I decided to go check out the menu at the one little restaurant in the area. The options looked good, but the tables looked bad. I was about to walk away when I heard a middle aged business man say, “Are you looking for a table? You can share mine, I’m just doing some emailing.” Bless his soul, it was my only option.<br />
<br />
I sat down, quickly put in my order for a burger, no bun, lots of fries, and pulled out my book so he wouldn’t feel obligated to play host to the stranger on the opposite side of the table. He struck up a conversation with me anyway. <br />
“I noticed your badge, do you work for the airline?” <br />
“Yes I do, I’m a flight attendant.”<br />
“Then you spend a lot of time in airports too, huh?”<br />
“You could definitely say that. Do you travel a lot for work?”<br />
“Yeah. My family and I have just moved to a little cabin outside of Spokane when I got offered a position in Burlington. We really didn’t want to move so I rented a little condo and I live there half the week and come home on weekends.”<br />
<br />
My burger arrived with a bunch of shredded, see through lettuce on top and fries spilling over the side of the plate. Airport food, its for survival.<br />
<br />
“It’s a rough life huh? You are lucky your family is so understanding since you have to travel so much.”<br />
“Yeah I was just talking to my wife about that. We were figuring out the numbers and if gas prices and plane tickets stay this low, it would actually be cheaper for me to give up the condo and travel home every night.”<br />
“How far is that to drive?”<br />
“If traffic is good and I am speeding, I can make it home in 4 ½ hours.”<br />
“You know what’s hard about that? People like you and me make it so important to be able to be home. But to the people at home, they only know that we walk in the door every night for dinner. They easily take for granted that they are so important to you that you are willing to drive 4 ½ hours every night just to be home, or sit in airport terminals drinking crown and talking to strangers just so you can eat dinner with them and tuck them into bed each night. That’s a lot of effort to see your kids for three hours a night. I mean, take this month for example. It was so important for me to be with family for Christmas that I had to rush back from Medford where my grandparents live to Portland in order to get to work on time. I worked a horrible trip over Christmas so that I could get home on Saturday morning, the day we planned to do family Christmas, and have the whole day with my family. They still all didn’t show up until 2, but I was ready. Then I woke up early New Year’s Day, hung over and everything, to hop another flight up to Bellingham so I could be with my friends for one day while they were all home together. Whenever I finally get home tonight I have to do laundry, repack, and immediately go to sleep because I have to work tomorrow. Make no mistake, I am happy to do these things because these people are so important to me, but it is totally exhausting,”<br />
“You are absolutely right. It is exhausting. But if that’s the effort I have to put in in order to have a somewhat ‘normal’ relationship with my kids, then I will do it. I just hope that they understand I am actually putting in all my effort in order to be with them. It would be so easy for them to be resentful that I am gone all the time, when that is the exact opposite of every goal that I have.”<br />
<br />
The bill comes and he quickly snatches it up and places his card down. “This is on me.”<br />
“No, you do not have to do that.”<br />
“I want to. You work hard to get people like me to places that we need to go and I appreciate all your effort. Plus, we are in this together.”<br />
They have begun to board his flight, the gate agents are calling for “all 75k, gold and mvp mileage plan members to begin boarding the delayed 5:30 flight to Seattle.”<br />
“Thanks, and I appreciate the effort you put into your family. It really is inspiring to see people who care enough about something to be as creative as they need to make it work. Have a good flight.”<br />
“Thanks, you too.”<br />
<br />
He didn’t have to share his table, he didn’t have to pay for my meal, and he really didn’t have to talk to me. But after that conversation, I felt supported by a community greater than myself. A community of people who make relationships the most important thing, whether or not the efforts are acknowledged or returned in kind. We don’t do it for the acknowledgement. We do it because that what you do when you love other people, you make sacrifices and you put in everything you have. You by no means make yourself a martyr. You do it because it’s important to you and because you want to. Then you cross your fingers and hope that it’s enough. <br />
Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-19784133352361816952015-01-06T17:39:00.001-08:002015-01-06T17:39:47.251-08:00A year of Gratitude and Positivity This year I have dedicated to be as happy and joyful as I can. I plan on looking for the good things, practicing gratitude, and being aware of the people who inspire me to do so. <br />
<br />
I just sat down to my compute and jotted down a list of the last 20 or so people I saw in the last month and wrote out reasons why I am thankful for them. They all inspire me in one way or another, and I know that surrounding myself with such positivity will only encourage me to keep looking up.<br />
<br />
It is so easy, and continues to become easier, to be negative. It takes no energy to complain, and yet it actually ends up taking all our energy. It doesn’t matter what the weather is, how busy I have been, how little sleep I have gotten, I am in charge of my attitude and behaviors. I have noticed how easy it has been to let the negative seep in while I am down and keep me there. This leads to nothing but lonely evenings, grumpy attitudes, and boring days. Everything I am against.<br />
<br />
I am starting a campaign. I charge you all to join me in practicing a year of gratitude. Surround yourself by positive people, read encouraging words, listen to podcasts about happiness and joy. Surround yourself with light and actively pursue it. <br />
<br />
I am going to start writing about the things I am grateful for. I am going to take my list of positivity warriors and expand on it. I am going to spotlight the people who inspire me. I am going to take note of the things I am grateful for. Writing about it will keep me accountable and it will be my way of actively and purposefully pursuing a heart of gratefulness and mindfulness and kindness.<br />
<br />
To all my dear friends and families who celebrated the holiday season with me, thank you for your light and your spirits. <br />
<br />
In my life today I am grateful for a clear sky and running at sunset, Mt. Hood was practically glowing. I am grateful for downhill skiing for the first time today. I am thankful for a night at home in the middle of a block of days on call. I am grateful for my affordable apartment with big windows, a cozy couch, and our Christmas tree that is still up far into January. I am thankful for the inspiration from The Alchemist which I just finished reading for about the 5th time. And I am thankful that Seven Virtues Coffee is within walking distance from my apartment. And lastly I am thankful for the warm shower I am about to take.<br />
Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-52290313219184566852015-01-04T13:41:00.002-08:002015-01-04T13:41:48.924-08:00New Year New FocusI've had the best start to the new year. I rang it in surrounded by family and friends, each close enough to snuggle and kiss on the cheek. We talked dreams and plans that I sincerely believe can come true. <br />
<br />
In the morning I scooted up the coastline to dwell amongst my community in Bellingham. I hadn't been to Bellingham since April-April!!! That's far too long to go without seeing such soul friends. The days were spent having brunch, drinking tea, playing party games and experiencing full belly laughs. So much joy and refreshment.<br />
<br />
Two days and hopped another flight to coeur d' alene, Idaho for a ski weekend (my first) with some heart friends. We slept in living forts, danced on the couches and make chocolate quinoa cake. Having cherished conversations on ski lifts and at dining room tables rebuilt me. <br />
<br />
One week, three cities, countless love. This is my life. And I am so lucky that it is. I have been reminded recently of the control and responsibility I have for my life and my actions. I can make time for my friends or I can sleep in and watch netflix. Both are acceptable, but what is the priority. When I was working all the time I barely had time to take care of my innate needs. And I am so thankful to have a little nest egg saved up, but what price did I pay for it. I was forced to take a hiatus from my community in order to take care of my physical health, but my mental and social health was strained. Mental health and physical health are too closely intertwined for this to be acceptable. My friends are too important to let that be acceptable. And my needs are too important to let that be acceptable. It's only been 3 1/2 days focusing on positivity, on happiness, on reconnecting. I feel so light.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-76037768722651421642014-12-26T21:20:00.004-08:002014-12-26T21:20:38.059-08:00Slowing DownI’ve been thinking a lot about how I spend my time. When I was young I had all the time in the world. I would spend countless hours curled up by the fire reading a book, or sitting in my open bedroom window behind the curtain watching the rain fall and breathing in the sharp, cold air. I could get lost in an art project and still find time to chat with friends on the phone for hours. <br />
<br />
I don’t know where that time has gone. What I do know is that I want to find a way to get it back.<br />
<br />
Each day holds the same amount of hours now as it does then. What I realize is that now I have a few more distractions. Facebook, Instagram, sodoku, you name it I have it on my phone ready and able to distract at a moment’s notice. There have been too many times where I suddenly realize I have been scrolling through photos of acquaintances on facebook for several minutes and I’m not entirely sure when I picked up my phone to begin with. Netflix provides stories upon stories of fictitious lives and made up worlds that I can get lost in for hours without ever once putting meaningful effort into the lives around me and the world I live in. And sure, these activities have a time and a place, but they shouldn’t take all the time. <br />
<br />
When I am not taking part in these leisurely activities I am faced with a long list of things I need to be doing or should be doing. There are always meals to be made, bills to pay, my room to clean, friends to visit, and another trip on the horizon to pack and then unpack for. A life of “should do, could do, need to do” is no better than a life of “where did the time go?”.<br />
<br />
What can I do to ensure I am living a life of intentionality freedom that I can be proud of and that makes me happy? What can I do to make sure I am living a life I want to live? <br />
<br />
I have started by slowing down a little bit. Taking out some unnecessary obligations and adding a few of the things I know I enjoy. Instead of scrolling through facebook I take that time to give a friend a call. Instead of watching another episode on t.v. I try to take a moment to journal or work out. Instead of filling my days with plans for weeks on end, I am trying to schedule blank days to do with what I will when they arrive. <br />
<br />
But a problem I have always had is my social life. And my job has not made it any easier. I love my friends, I do. I would do anything for them, and I do. But what I forget is that in between planning a trip to visit so and so and making a lunch date with such and such, I am leaving myself no time to take care of myself. I forget to incorporate the hobbies I love. I don’t think I went hiking all summer and I definitely didn’t go camping. I can count the number of times I have been rock climbing on one hand. I have had the same journal for over 2 years, that’s how little I sit down to write in it. My paints haven’t been opened since I moved out of my sisters house and I haven’t cooked a real meal at home in probably two months. <br />
<br />
I know life changes and sometimes we don’t have time to do all the things we used to, and sometimes we don’t want to do all the things we used. But one thing is for certain, I want to make sure that I am constantly checking in with myself and listening to my needs. I want to give myself time to be me, to do the things that make me tick. If that means saying no to a few get-togethers or just turning off my phone for a couple hours, I want to be more intentional with my time. Because taking care of myself is the best way for me to take care of you, too.<br />
Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-81122549122243403752014-09-13T12:31:00.002-07:002014-09-13T12:31:27.304-07:00NICElandIceland (or NICEland as we've been calling it) has exceeded expectations so far. We've seen the northern lights 3 of the 4 nights we've been here (and we didn't even try the first night because of jet lag and northern lights). We have had plenty of day light and starting this trip on a full moon has given us plenty of light at night also. The sky seems bigger here even when you are surrounded by mountains, and the Big Dipper has hung bright and true. <br />
I think we have finally got a handle on jet lag. The first couple days we could barely drag ourselves out of be by 9:30, it's become more like 7:45 in recent times, even though each night is a late one bundled up outside in the wind huddled against the wheels of cutie patunia, our rental, chasing the lights of the north.<br />
It's been hard to find good coffee in the morning since most shops and cafés don't open until 10 or 11, but the Te and Kaffi store, usually inside a souvenir and book shop, has come to our rescue multiple days around 9 am. However it's still been a battle against small cup syndrome.<br />
And it's been great to be off the grid. I've only had internet two of the nights we have been here, so it's allowed ample time for journaling and sifting through the days photos without being interrupted by what's happening with casual acquaintances a world away.<br />
Lastly, every sight we have seen and activity we have participated in has been breathtaking, nothing like we could have even imagined. From the highest waterfall to the most powerfull and all the "average" ones in between, pseudo craters, nighttime rainbows, fall colors on moss and birch trees, rolling hills and high fjords, turf roof houses and the old couple who sang to me for my birthday and gifted me a rose (which of course I have been putting in water every night and taking pictures of all along our journey). Most nights we have had a dorm room in a hostel all to ourselves and have been making friends along the way, most of which we have run into a second time at anther point of interest. The Myvatn nature baths at sunset (like the blue lagoon of the north, but less people), the glow of the constantly erupting volcano at night, and of course the northern lights and shooting stars that have ended each of our evenings. This morning we are heading out on a whale watching trip in an old wooden schooner from the fishing town of Husavik and finally having an unplanned afternoon to rest and relax and make our own.<br />
I've been reminded again and again just how beautiful life is. We made this life. It didn't come easy (this trip has been in the dreaming an the making close to four years), but if you really want your life to look a certain way there is almost always a way to make it happen. There are things that happen which are beyond our control and can throw us off emotional and physically, but we have the power to make life out of lemons. It takes little pulling up by the boot straps, a little creativity and substitution, and a little bit of dreaming. <br />
After seeing those dancing lights for the first magical time I said, "you know, it's like we have insurance on our happiness. So many good things have already happened that we are guaranteed a degree of happiness, but they have the possibility of always getting better." <br />
We just have to keep our eyes open for the opportunities to see them.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-50082377031110682272014-08-21T10:43:00.002-07:002014-08-21T10:50:04.850-07:00It's Time Again For A New ChapterI'm about to start another chapter. This has been a long, exhausting summer of working every single day. Props to those of you who do it for a life time, it's hard. It's hard especially when my second job takes me away from home for up to four days in a row. I've spent the summer tired, grumpy, and with little ambition or drive (or ability) to partake in the activities that make me feel alive. <br />
So with one job wrapping up in a week and a savings account bursting at the seems (compared to what it was), I'm ready to start a new chapter and new goals. <br />
I want this next year to be focused on positivity. Complaining less and loving more. Intentionality. I want to be outside as much as I can. I want to surround myself with people I love and people who love me. I want to try new things. I want to take classes, language, writing, psychology, mountain climbing. I want to learn proper punctuation. I want to do the old things I've always loved, photography, climbing, running, reading, writing... I want to take my mornings slow and sip coffee on my balcony. I want to visit all the national parks in Oregon and Washington.. And while we're at it I might as well head to California, Montana, and Utah.... I want to feel like I'm on the edge of everything. I want to love my life by living my life. <br />
Care to join?Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-56090166335370380292014-05-09T18:51:00.005-07:002014-05-09T23:55:55.425-07:00Where To Go From HereIn Alaska I felt alive, so much so I can't stop talking about it. But talking about it helps to make sense of where I am now, because lately things have been feeling less alive and more "angsty". I have been on a great winding road and have crash landed back in Oregon. I am now left with the task of unwinding my trail and figuring out who I am now, what is important to me, and how to get where I aim to go.<br />
<br />
In Alaska life was simple. I was at the beginning of my youth and my future was stored somewhere a great distance away. I worked to save and when I wasn't working, I played. My relationships were intimate, vibrant and constant. There was consistent life in my house where the couch was always open for late night beers and conversation or hours of friends making music. It was also easily moved to the side for our Fourth of July or Lady Gaga dance party. <br />
<br />
In Alaska my beliefs were daily challenged, nothing ever lay dormant. My life was full. I hiked, I ran, I climbed, I zipped, I boated with whales, I camped and I laughed every hour. Free time was seen as opportunity. A random encounter with a stranger quickly became the meeting of a close friend. Life was community and love encompassed everything we gave and received. At the close of each day I felt an emotional and physical exhaustion brought on by every day life, and sleep camp easy. Sometimes I would be woken all too soon to hike a mountain at midnight in order to catch a 3 a.m. sunrise, other times I wouldn't get to sleep till 3 in order to catch a glimpse of the midnight sun or northern lights. I read and I wrote and I laughed and I listened and the miniscule amount of music I could independently make was enough. Each moment was vibrant.<br />
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When I decided to not return to Alaska for another summer, but to "plant roots" and be stationary for a while, life became a challenge. Being a born dreamer I was quick to see the things I would miss out on and my disappointment blinded me from the opportunities at home. Honestly, the transition back into "city life" was hard. Relationships took extra work, the outdoors were hidden behind concrete and scooted farther away. I allowed myself to become bored and accept life as dull. <br />
<br />
I became busy with tasks and commuting and working and slowly I closed up into myself, allowing the crowd to swallow me up. During this time I dreamed of the life I wanted. I dreamed of going to Iceland and hiking its mountains, swimming its pools, dancing with its people. I dreamed of friends popping by. I dreamed of spontaneous outings. But I didn't take action because now I was limited by time and money and location and occasionally health.<br />
<br />
I have since procured a job in travel, moved to Seattle and back, and am now working two jobs for the summer, in order to save money for my impending trip to Iceland (and to pay off student loans, obviously). I have decorated my new apartment, ditched the bus for biking as often as possible, and am devouring multitudes of books at once. I am working hard at making every day intentional. I plan on writing more words, reading more books, hiking more mountains, listening to more music, laughing with more friends (at least with the lovely ones I already have), and delving further into more beliefs. It is invigorating to see dreams taking shape and to realize what I do have control over. I am working hard to make my life like it was in Alaska. I am working hard at making every day an adventure, because every moment should taste this sweet.<br />
Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-22582614745659436442014-02-26T17:18:00.001-08:002014-02-26T17:18:07.488-08:00Hello, GoodbyeEven in my short amount of days I have said a lot of hellos and a lot of goodbyes. I remember my first goodbye. I was around 3 and it was the neighbor boy. My dad explained that our friend had been playing power rangers with glass. He tripped and fell and the glass entered the side of his head, it went into his sacred temple. He didn't make it. That was my first experience with death.<br />
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The next few goodbyes, while still traumatic, were less grotesque. It seemed like every other year, starting when I was six years old, my best friends would move. And ironically or not they all moved to Texas. I grew an early hatred for Texas.<br />
Then, when I was nine, my oldest sister moved out to go to college and my family life was changed. That which had ways been so routine and "stable", was altered. <br />
Ever since it's been a cycle, meet people, move away, meet people, move away. Another sister moves. Hellos and goodbyes. <br />
Eventually I did the moving. The most exciting part of moving was that I came with myself. Suddenly it was adventure instead of being left behind and I had a say in what happened. I felt liberated. I haven't been able to stop since. The freedom is intoxicating. And no matter where I<br />
go there are always more people to meet. It makes the goodbyes less difficult.<br />
But in my life I have been lucky enough to come across a few fellow travelers and adventurers. <br />
Dreamers. <br />
These people are not satisfied with living a "normal" life, or even believe that there is such a thing. They too have been taken a hold of by wonderlust. These are the friends that I never say "goodbye "to, only "until next time". While parting with them is still sad, it's more bittersweet. Their lifestyle is encouraging. Their presence is intoxicating. These are the friends that I know I will run into over and over again, no matter what state or country we inhabit. And I never feel like I truly leave them, because wherever I go a little part of them comes with me. And I know wherever they are, they hold pieces of me too.<br />
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The goodbyes and the hellos are what constitute life. It's what happens when you live. But I am lucky enough to know the different between "goodbye" and "see you later". I am lucky enough to get to experience the difference.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-7141801849935300812013-12-11T11:07:00.001-08:002014-01-07T14:28:48.783-08:00Dan Moller and Dreams Coming TrueAll my dreams are coming true. It helps that they aren't complicated dreams. Walking out to the Mendenhall Glacier on the frozen lake, snowshoeing in the Juneau woods, glimpsing the sparkling Christmas lights on Franklin Street and sitting at Heritage Coffee on a cold winter night sipping coffee, which I am currently doing. It's invigorating, liberating. To make long ago dreams come true. To have the power to make choices. To have the ability.<br />
<br />
I've felt so empowered recently. I don't know if it's because my frontal lobe has fully developed, because I have had conversations I have been putting on the back burner, or because I have been trying new and somewhat scary things. I am more content than ever before. I have no more direction than before, no more stability, no more assuredness in the things I hope to believe in. But I am beginning to recognize the power of choice. That things can be obtained by just trying. And that things can be just as easily let go of if they become unhealthy and toxic. Life is full of possibilities and all we have to do is choose our paths- love or hate, adventure or repetition, flavor or bland. I choose the edge. I choose freedom. I choose love.<br />
<br />
Snowshoeing today on Dan Moller trail was like magic. The snow was soft and clean. The trees had dressed themselves in delicate layers for our visit. The mountains slowly unveiled themselves behind curtains of fog and the clean air pierced our lungs and captured our noises. Feet stomping. Voices carrying intimate conversation between friends, family. <br />
<br />
We left our prints. We explored our home. We made plans for ten years from now. Why not? Dreams are all we have. And we are the only ones who can make them come true.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-51760621251377308052013-11-13T18:07:00.000-08:002014-01-07T14:32:13.069-08:00I Am My Grandpa's GranddaughterI've been thinking a lot about my grandpa Clarence. He died 6 years ago and I never really knew him well. But I always felt we had a secret. He was a wild adventurer. I wish he could have lived to know he passed that on to me.<br />
<br />
Tall, lanky, solid. He was a firm man who smelled like a mix of coffee, cigarettes, and the faint open road. A truck driving man, the road was his home, my inheritance. And when you have that in your blood it becomes your responsibility. <br />
<br />
As I drive the wild roads to the Grand Canyon, to the corner of the world he called home, I realize the last time I drove here was just after his death. I was taking my Grandma back home to pack their things and move to a new corner of the world, a world of her own. I find myself wishing I had more time with him. I wish I could have sipped a whiskey with him, drank stale coffee, or sat on the porch inhaling his second hand smoke as we shared our stories of the road. <br />
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His life must have been rich in his own kind of way, a solace kind of way, and I yearn for it, even if only second hand. But I still feel him with me just like I did then. And I realize it's been 6 years this very day since his death but I've always known he was still around somewhere. I've found him, here, in my cup of black coffee on the open road.<br />
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Written 11-11-2013Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-84957111560930136552013-11-10T20:42:00.005-08:002014-01-07T14:33:34.333-08:00#atandyweddingThe sun warmed our faces, but it was love that warmed everything else. Sitting in Joshua Tree, watching two dear friends pledge to be together and we, all family, pledged to be alongside them. As it was we each made this pledge with the time we took off work and miles we traveled in order to sit on those wooden chairs as observers. And it isn't for nothing. The love they give us, the culture they have helped create to keep us all together, it has repaid us ten fold and ten fold again.<br />
And so it was that after the aisle was walked and the promises made, the tears flowed. We made our toasts, we drank our drink, and our feet tap tap tapped, legs jump jump jumped, and bodies swayed side to side. Because they have love. Because we have love. And because we have all opened ourselves to that gift of love from each other.<br />
<br />
A toast to you my loved friends. May your life be one sweet dance.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-77187614768329438002013-10-15T13:48:00.000-07:002013-10-15T13:48:01.733-07:00Life's Constant MotionLife doesn't necessarily happen to you. It happens, but that's not the same thing as it happening to you. "To you" suggests purpose, preconceived notions, a plan. As though you are important enough for life to make a special plan for you if you just follow the pre-paved path. As though you are some actor in a play you've never read, and you're supposed to say lines you've never heard. It's impossible. Life does happen though, constantly. It doesn't stop or slow or sleep. It is a collection of ideas, actions and non actions. If you sit around and wait for it, it will pass you by. It is motion. If you act on life, if you happen upon it and choose to happen to it, then you just might be able to hop on it and be swept away.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-47798518454774127402013-09-13T08:48:00.002-07:002013-09-13T08:48:31.540-07:00On Turning 25<br />
I like having mile stones. It's nice to have a reason to stop and reflect. A reason to slow down and look around at where you are at, think about where you have been, and dream about where you are going.<br />
<br />
I remember in middle school when one of my mentors turned 25 and I couldn't believe how old that was. He was married, had two kids, a real job, and lots of respect while somehow managing to still be a total goofball. I imagined at 25 my life would look a little something like that.<br />
<br />
But here I am and my life is something totally different, and I am so thankful that it is. My life is my own and I have taken care to ensure it stays that way. There were things that I dreamt about for my future and I have challengws myself to looked them in the eye and to do them. I have been to many more places than I could have dreamed and seen so much more than I could have imagined. I have lived out my fairytale and it has changed me. <br />
<br />
I have been blessed by the opportunities that have been laid down in front of me and I have been blessed by the people I have met along the way, people who have become family. People who have taught me invaluable lessons about loving and accepting love, about fearlessness and caution, about accepting myself and giving space for my feelings, about beauty, grace, forgiveness, slowing down, taking care of yourself so you can take care of others and allowing others to take care of you, about reciprocity and listening to all the sounds of all creation that are daily singing songs of these things.<br />
<br />
In this birthday month I have had the chance to be surrounded by so many of these people, these family members. I feel full. Being 25 is something I have reached, but I have not reached it on my own. And however many years I have left, whatever big and little things life throws at me, I am lucky enough to know I won't be alone. I have so much love. This is the greatest gift.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-73746184210361218262013-08-27T14:26:00.001-07:002013-08-27T14:26:57.338-07:00A Tree On A HillShe returns to a tree she sat under a year before and was shocked that it had returned to its previous state. All the leaves that once fell have regrown, changed colors, and are beginning to detach themselves from their constant life support. In a body that is constantly changing and moving forward, she was humbled by this trees turning of season. It's long shadow grazes the same grounds it had the year before and its leaves will soon cover them as well. Her aging eyes look over this old hill, the same hill this tree has watched over many years. She finds it a humble blessing to know a growing object can stay in one place, roots grown deep, and go through the same motions year after year. She finds it a humble blessing that all the while in its steady repetition, this wise aging tree has continued to provide space for a young girl learning to become a woman.<br />
Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-38407263142404713002013-08-22T20:41:00.002-07:002013-08-22T20:41:31.203-07:00Things I've Learned From Project 365 Thus FarThings I've learned from project 365 this far:<br />
To look for beautiful things every day and to take photos of them, obviously. But what about the days I don't leave home, is there something beautiful to capture there? And what of the days I don't have access to my phone, can I find something in the last 5 minutes of the day that will subsist. And what of the days I am busy and don't have time to take a photo. Do I count it as loss and leave the day blank and start a trail for many other blank days that end up the same? Or is it ok to bend my own rules, substitution. And what of the days too beautiful to photograph? What of the people too beautiful to capture. What of my heart when its so full and what of my heart when it's been drained and left empty? And what if I save the best for myself and do not to share it, because beauty is often too delicate for scrutiny of many eyes. And anyway I'm not making art, I'm capturing things that are beautiful to me.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-22351954953856876462013-07-18T12:23:00.000-07:002013-07-18T12:23:37.779-07:00Time: Our Melodious CurseAging has haunted my thoughts. Not my aging in particular, but all aging. The longer you live, the more there is love. Love is something worked for, labored over, sought after, and carefully protected. And just when love is at its height (which really is every new moment), the loved are snatched. <br />
But love doesn't stop. Curse it for it follows wherever we go for however long we are there. Once tasted, it cannot be denied, no matter how hard we try. So we, the lovers, are left with displaced emotions. The universe sings songs and our senses, which were born to sing along, cannot help but harmonize. Waves crashing, sizzling, foaming at our feet, banana bread pudding between our teeth, fresh air in our lungs, sweet melodies in our ears, and aging lovers on a beach, with time between them. Time, their testament, their banner, their trophy, their curse.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-31403831791610607522013-07-02T12:24:00.001-07:002013-07-02T12:24:26.123-07:00Beauty Of A DayThe things that make the day beautiful:<br />
Waking to a gentle breeze I a house I love to the sounds of a neighborhood alive and busy. <br />
A part of something.<br />
Breakfast alone at a tasty place, sitting at the bar, chatty tender, paid for a stranger. <br />
Part of something.<br />
Walk to the park, views of a working city, sounds of the trains, the cars, the river, the chatter of passerby's. Part of something.<br />
Trips to the water, reunions with friends, snuggles with pups, messages on machines, a shared bowl of fruit.<br />
A Part of so many many something's.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-27980914028646088672013-06-19T11:20:00.002-07:002013-06-21T09:22:31.884-07:00Summer HaikuSummer sun. I'm not<br />
<br />
a summer girl. Born of rain<br />
<br />
I evaporate.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-4793865991346312022013-06-13T00:31:00.003-07:002013-06-13T00:31:28.290-07:00An Eye ViewI used to sit in the last seat of our dodge plymouth voyager and lean backwards over it. In this matter the sky, which took up my whole vision, looked as though it were beneath me, I felt like I was constantly falling into it.Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1951840447937397199.post-1267405514465415982013-06-06T10:25:00.002-07:002013-06-06T10:25:51.116-07:00On Bloglovin too<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/7342355/?claim=uq2w8v29ge2">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>Deborah annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15319389608109142739noreply@blogger.com0