top of page

Outside.

As a child I found myself outside often, I loved the area I grew up in. I lived next to a marsh and a bird sanctuary. The songs they sang, the hoots you heard and the soft cooing from the trees eased my soul. I would lay in the grass and let the warmth of the sun kiss my bare skin. I remember closing my eyes and seeing the pink translucent hue of my skin, as the light shined through even that.


Even at night the outdoors were magical with fireflies floating about, the soft sound of water slipping through the fountain in our yard. Crickets taking over the symphony of the birds and the soft dew that would cool your bare feet. The stars would twinkle in that ocean deep blue sky and I would sneak out with my sister to the beach. Waves would crash against the shore and under a street light, perched on a ledge we would get bitten alive by sand flies and vent all the problems of the world. We would dream together, sometimes not even verbalizing it but just simply sitting in silence looking out at the sound to the lit homes across the way. It was as if we were the only ones truly awake.


My sister and I snuck out successfully for years. We danced on the street, laughed our hearts out on the sidewalk. Talked about boys, dared each other to do stupid things, dragged our hands against metal chain lock fencing and pointed out our favorite homes.


When we got home our final mission would be to sneak past our father on the couch. We would slip through the slider door, climb the stairs to the dining area and hope not to stir the dogs as we peeked in at our snoring father laying on the couch as always. Most nights we were successful. We would tiptoe to our rooms, say "I love you" and disappear, until the next night of Cinderella like magic.



24 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual abuse. A lot of times in life I have gotten called out for not being there enough, for not calling enough, for not texting enough. I have gotten told that I am selfish and unca

I remember drunken nights, lying on that cold wood varnished floor, tracing the creases of the patterned planked platform. The nights cool air billowing through my window with the gentle hum of the do

When I first returned to my faith It was a slow crawl, I walked so timidly back to the safe place that I run from before. Shame had withered me and I feared being looked at as the damaged mess I saw m

bottom of page