February 27, 2025
Dear Music,
Hello, I am writing this letter in appreciation for the beauty you bring to the world. I want to thank you for being universal. Life gets so tough at times. We deal with the day to day, as human beings we have a pile of stress with that comes much anxiety.
I just want you to know that you help humans find peace, you become the escape from all the hustle and bustle. Music, you are the sounds and notes put together to create a beautiful melody. Some don’t like you, I think it’s just because they don’t truly understand the impact you make.
Music when someone has memory loss or at the end of life you are what they remember, you also help us to remember others with a song. It’s like you’re built in; you know hard wired into the soul. You bring the best parts of humans out. When you hit our ears, our souls light up. It’s what connects us to our spirit. You bring happiness on the inside some of us can’t sit still, we have to let it out. Some might sway, while others get so ignited on the inside they have to dance!
Music you are at our literal fingertips, you produce such a bounty of blessing for humans when they pick up an instrument and play.
Tunes and melodies get stuck in our heads throughout our days. Lyrics fly off the pages as we immerse ourselves in the sounds you create. Not just any sound, the sounds of Joy as well and understanding that come from those lyrics.
In ending I want to say thank you for connecting me to God, preserving my peace, teaching me how to worship my creator whom I love, and being there when it’s hard for others to understand. Blessings!
Love Always,
Kristina J.

To the mark I leave behind,

You are the fire that drives me, the whisper in my soul that refuses to be silenced. Long before my hands touched ink or my voice carried weight, you existed—a shadow of what could be, a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

I have built you from struggle, carved you from sacrifice, and shaped you with love so deep it demands to be remembered. You are more than words on a page, more than echoes in time—you are proof that I was here, that I lived with purpose, that I refused to let the world forget me.

You are written in my children’s laughter, stitched into every lesson I have taught them. You exist in the stories I tell, the battles I have won, the kindness I have given—even when I had nothing left to give.

The world may one day forget my name, but it will not forget you. You will live on in the lives I’ve touched, in the hands that carry my work forward, in the echoes of every love I have left behind.

So I write this to you, my unwritten chapters, my unfinished song, my enduring fire—may you outlive me, outshine me, and carry forward everything I dared to dream.

With all that I am,
A man who refuses to be forgotten.

For so long, I craved a home, a “room of one’s own”, in the words of Virginia Woolf. It seemed like the more I wanted it, the more elusive it became.

Growing up as an older daughter, it was natural that I shared a room with my younger sister to accompany her through the scary night.

When I finally left home to pursue my dreams, my dad’s allowance only covered a shared room with friends, on a second floor in an overcrowded house in the suburbs. A shared room with a shared bed, a shared closet, a shared fridge. An overcrowded house that required turns to cook, to bathe, to do laundry. An overcrowded home where friendship was valued above all, but where I understood the importance of silence, of a moment to gather one’s thoughts, to decompress after a bad day. Those things had never been needed so badly until then.

I kept growing up, starting the climb up the corporate ladder, hearing of glass ceilings I wondered if I could shatter. Suddenly, I was 22, and Taylor Swift’s song captured exactly how I felt: freshly out of college and of my home country, with a bright future ahead. Naturally, I dreamed of having a glamorous apartment that reflected my new and improved life. But the pay wasn’t great, so I resorted to living with roommates in a far less sophisticated setting. In apartment 204 I learned that my bright future wasn’t so, that my good wasn’t good enough, that company can be solitude, that maybe I had been spoiled my entire life. I lived seasons of not wanting to go back home solely to avoid conflict. Then, I changed roommates and changed experiences, certainly improving, but still feeling the need to have a space that was uniquely mine. My own castle where I was queen and subject, and where my personality could shine at the turn of every corner.

Years passed, a pandemic hit, and after years of being in a relationship, I wondered if it was time to take it to the next level. My partner and I moved to a shiny apartment that promised to be everything I wanted out of life. But two years went by and only one piece of art hung in our many walls, solely because we couldn’t agree on that, or on anything. I looked around, and while beautiful and modern, the place felt like I didn’t live there, as if, ironically, there was no room for me. Perhaps we both couldn’t let go of our past identities to blend into one. Maybe I wasn’t ready to commit to shades of grey when all I wanted out of life was pastel hues.

When I decided to leave, I spent months without a home, moving from one friend’s house to another. It was the toughest period of my life, and I had never longed more for a place to lay down the weight I carried. I learned to make a room in my own heart, maybe as it always should have been. Nonetheless, I never stop wishing for a nest, big or small, it didn’t matter anymore; I wanted some place I could claim as mine, the Republic of me.

After what felt like a whirlwind, I finally received the keys to my very own apartment. After 30 years, five big moves, and a dozen smaller ones, I finally sat on the floor of my empty studio on August 11th 2023, appreciating it like a big white canvas I now got to paint with splatters and flowers and glitter and everything I fancied. I played Karol G’s song “Mientras me Curo del Cora” (While my Heart Heals), and made a list of essentials to set this new season of my life in motion.

Almost two years later, every morning, as I wake up and look around my beautiful little home, my heart rejoices as if seeing it for the first time. The process of making it distinctly mine, with all the pink accents, tokens of appreciation from friends and family, souvenirs of trips, pictures of my favorite moments, has been more magical and more rewarding than my wildest fantasies. This is the place where I can be me, where I can embrace my soul, let people in and also retire from the world. Where I can set and break my own rules. Where I can’t get enough of the smell of coffee and vanilla. Where I can have lazy mornings with my love or use those early hours to journal as I like. If I was asked about my favorite place in the world, without hesitation, I’d say: these four walls.

I love this apartment because of what it took, and because of what it means. It is a reflection of everything I am and everything that I hold dear. More than a need fulfilled it is a dream come true.

Red Tulips

Among this sea of tulips,
I fancied only the Red,
Not the Purple or Yellow,
Only Reds I pursue.

In each tulip bed,
I fancied only Red,
Not the Golden or Sky Blue,
Only Reds I’m gonna pluck.

Oh Red Tulip,
So beautiful are you,
When spring is here,
I just can’t pick one or two.

I long for a bouquet of Red Tulips,
Not the mixed colors for sure,
My quest is for Red,
And only the Red ones will do!

You tempt me, beckoning with sugared silk,
allure a golden promise whispered on the tongue.

I cannot resist.

Eyes drift closed,
chin rising as I inhale the intoxicating scent of you—
slowly, deliberately.
Exhale,
desire declared with silent hunger.

Teeth graze my bottom lip,
anticipation building
until your pliable stiffness yields,
enters my mouth in a welcoming embrace,
igniting on contact.
And then the explosion—symphony of maple
melting as I swirl my tongue,
exploring every nuanced velvet crumb,
every crystalline grain of bliss
in a slow cadence of flavor—sweet oblivion.
Each nibble, an encore—
from first taste to lingering ecstasy,
you fill me.

Dear Peace,

My greatest love is you. Fondly, I recall peaceful, happy times, now bittersweet and nostalgic memories. You were present at family gatherings. I would hear such wonderful and inspiring verses being read from the bible. Each waltz in the living room erased another day’s conflicts and errors. I longed for love and then I had a dream featuring you. Wheat and grass surrounded and overtowered me as I ran through the field. I noticed a hand in my grasp and while looking at him; I knew I was safe, and it felt like you. This meant I could stop running away from conflict. Not just physically, but the mental war. I just don’t feel like I fit in. I purposely observe others to learn how to communicate with others, so conversations can flow smoothly. Sometimes I envy others and how it seems like no matter how dumb their conversions seem to be, they laugh. Although my dumb remarks have sometimes drawn ridicule. Anyway, the times I have felt wronged in my life or accused of wrong-doings in my life by hypocrites are astonishing! Despite: Although provoked, I would cool off to avoid further mental distress. I’ve always kept my feelings concealed, and it always had worked. I’m not perfect and I’ve struggled with anger. Some days didn’t go as planned, leading me to snap verbally when someone annoyed me. A couple of physical attacks, most likely from a sibling or a family member. I like to avoid confusion because it feels like a mental nausea and unlike a headache; it doesn’t hurt. It just feels like there are tangled ropes in my mind. I’m not at ease when I’m confused because I freeze and I don’t react or speak and it becomes my dream paralysis, but this time I’m awake in real life. I struggle to respond, fearing judgment and ridicule. After COVID, I met someone, and it seemed like I had finally met you in real life. I couldn’t understand a single word he was saying to me; when the words that I knew would hurt me; they just didn’t hurt me. I must have been in a trance. I experienced a mental pause, like a video, and the lingering confusion became invisible. If he spoke beautiful words to me, I would recognize him as the one. I don’t know if he knew what to say, but when I felt like I was ugly, he complemented my outfit, making me feel like I was beautiful again. Exclusion was a regular feeling until I took part in group activities, even if they seemed foolish, like the conversations I envied. I wished to be a creative leader, but a lack of confidence held me back. I once gave a speech. When I was done, I saw him smile and whisper it was creative. The days I felt dumb, he called me smart. My last encounter with him, I had felt foolish. He told me I was wise. His departure made me feel as though you had also left. My mind resumed the video, increasing my confusion; Or maybe, used to you, that confusion felt odd. Confusion came back to haunt me. It still has not become clear to me if this interaction was an angel of peace, an addictive drug, a trick, or the devil’s illusion, because I can’t quite remember the ill words if he ever did. He gave me what I desired to hear. Before covid, I functioned chaotically, yet somehow thrived under stress. I want to be clear that understanding social cues was difficult, and I felt it often took me much longer than others, no matter how much I desired the opposite. Even amidst the world’s relentless pace, your patience remained through him. When I didn’t want to talk, you would ask me, and I froze and I hesitated, but you asked another time, making it seem you would listen and be patient with me when nobody else would, and I thank you for that. Since I’m aware he is gone forever, I still hope to see you again. I experienced these peaceful memories, despite their addictive nature. I will always remember you and cherish all those memories in my heart.

Dear Wobbly
You were my pride and joy. The world seemed like a better place with you in it. You made everything bright and colorful. Now, I find myself seeing the world in a different shade.
When I saw you in the yard staring at a butterfly. I loved you at first sight. Then you got up to chase it and my heart broke into. You were wobbling side to side your back legs you could hardly use. I tried to catch you, but you ran away. I was so surprised at how fast you were given your state. You finally trusted me and I brought you to live inside. I smile even as I write this. I put pillows down all over the house. So you won’t fall and hurt yourself; even though you wobbled, you still loved to climb. You loved cuddles and kisses. You loved being squished. You would cuddle for hours.
Nevertheless, nothing lasts forever, and it broke my heart when you began to fade. I knew you would die, they told me so, but I never thought so soon. For six wonderful years, you were mine, and I cherished every day with you. It broke my heart to let you go. The world seems so empty without you. You would light up the room with your wobbly walks and beautiful face. I know you won’t want me to be sad forever, but everything’s grey without you. I miss you every day. You brought me joy, and now there is sadness in its place. I don’t feel whole with you gone. It’s like you took a piece of me with you. You will always be in my heart and I hope someday to see you again. However, until that day comes I will live with knowing you were loved and I took care of you well. For a brief moment you were a piece of heaven I held in my arms each day. I hope someday to once again see your beautiful face.

Love Nanette.

Ocean,

I used to hate you, but now I love you.

I thought you were too messy when I met you. Your grains of sand would stick to my clothes, find their way to my hair, and slip into the cracks of my shoes’ soles. Whenever we would part ways, there would still be little reminders of you on me. God, it was annoying. It was like I couldn’t shake your existence.

You were so salty. When I took a dip in your cold water, I would taste it in my mouth. You soured my breath, and I felt dirty around you. Your seaweed would wrap around my legs, as if begging for me to stay in the water. I found that rather clingy. For a while, I refused to touch you, Ocean.

It was so infuriating how everybody loved you, like you could do no wrong. People called you beautiful and peaceful, compliments pouring out of their mouths like waterfalls. They would take pictures of you. Paint pictures, even. They would travel for hours to see you. Maybe I was envious of you. I wanted to be liked as much as you.

But as I grew up, you grew on me. I realized what people see when they idolize you. Being around you makes me feel calm. You made me realize there is so much more to this world, beyond your horizon. You put me at ease. Your sound is like a lullaby that could put me to sleep.

I love you when not everybody does. There’s a unique charm in your winter coldness that I adore, far more than the summer warmth everyone else loves. Because you are cold like me, yet I still find you beautiful. We were more alike than I thought. You are more peaceful in the wintertime because I only share you with a few other people. You sit with me and let me process my thoughts, which can become overwhelming in such a hectic world. You are there for me without saying a word. Sometimes, words do not need to be spoken to make somebody feel better, and that you understand.

Through all four seasons of the year, you were there for me. I am grateful to have known you for so long because some people will never meet you. You remained a constant in my tumultuous life. You are something I can depend on and see when I need to take a breather from everyone and everything around me. Time and time again, I have stared at you for hours and have not gotten bored.

You have shown me beauty from your vastness. I am a speck in the grand universe.

Thank you, Ocean, for showing me how little everything matters in this world. I get caught up in my anxiety that every small action I take will have an exponential impact on my life. You remind me life is so much greater than my microscopic mistakes.

I love you, Ocean, and I am eternally grateful for you.

Love, Chloe

Dear “Yellow” by Coldplay,

You are more than just a song; you are a lifeline. There are no perfect words to fully capture how much you mean to me, but if you could feel even a fraction of the love and comfort you’ve given me, you’d understand how you saved me.

When my friend passed away, you became my anchor, my light in the darkness. Losing him was my first true experience with grief, and it shattered me in ways I never imagined. We were only in high school when the weight of his inner world became too much to bear, and he took his own life. When he left this world, it felt like a part of me did too. I didn’t know how to move forward, how to exist in a world where he no longer did.

Music has always been my outlet for difficult emotions, so I turned to you and you welcomed me with open arms. Your melody, lyrics, and rhythm instantly became the most beautiful and comforting presence in my life. Your heartfelt message resonated with every fiber of my being. Your lyrics perfectly voiced the love I wish I could’ve expressed: “Look at the stars, look how they shine for you.” To me, he was always the brightest light and for him, I would’ve done anything to take his pain away.

I yearned to feel connected to him again. It’s as if you read my mind because the more I listened to you, the closer I felt to him. You became a channel for our connection; it felt like I was singing your lyrics to him and he was there, listening in spirit.
Though he passed eight years ago, you’ve given me the gift of keeping his memory alive. You helped me realize that despite him no longer being physically here, that doesn’t mean I lost him forever. His presence lingers in between every guitar chord and drum beat; our connection is still deeply real and it’s all because of you.

I thought grief was only a dark, painful mix of emotions, but you’ve allowed me to see the light in it, a light I never thought I’d find. The beautiful thing is that you did this effortlessly, simply by existing. Even though you can’t take my pain away, you help me sit with it and that’s enough. You allow me to close my eyes, sway to your beat, and never judge me when all my emotions get the best of me. Whether I’m crying hysterically and can barely breathe, feeling bouts of guilt and helplessness, or just sitting in silence, numb—you always meet me with love and compassion.
You let me come and go freely, staying as long as I need to feel some relief, whether that means listening two, three or even ten times in a row. You’re always there for me, day or night, no matter what. You’re my shoulder to lean on and my reminder that I’m never alone, even when it feels that way.

You’re my number one song, forever. While most people may grow tired of hearing the same song over and over, I could never—not with you. You’ve earned the title of the most beautiful and meaningful song to ever exist. Everything about you touches my heart and soul.
You elicit a sense of peace that no other song could ever come close to. Each time I listen, you captivate me like it’s the first time. From the very first second, any stress instantly melts away and I discover more reasons to fall more in love with you.

Now, whenever I look up at the sky full of stars, I see how they shine for both me and him. The lyrics I once thought were only my message to him have also become his message to me; he views me in the same light. Whenever I listen to you, I feel our love flowing back and forth and I know he’s beside me, smiling and cheering me on. It gives me hope and strength to keep going—to live for him, to do all the things he wanted to but never got the chance to, to carry his spirit forward and let him live vicariously through me. And with you, it feels like we’re connected more than ever and it’s just us against the world.

So thank you, for capturing our love for each other and bringing us closer together again. You’re the invisible string between me on Earth and him in heaven.

Without you, grief would’ve broken me. But you’ve given me a space to honor my pain, meet my heart with compassion, embrace the highs and lows, and let grief shape me rather than shatter me—and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Love,

Jessica Freile

At my lowest moments, you are always there to pick me up
From break ups to make ups
To a brighter day to umm, I forget that one by Jay
You just make me feel a way
I can’t explain it, it’s a vibe

There are some days we discuss aggravated robberies, with ski masks over our skulls
No real plans to do it
It’s just you have to lighten up your days
You know, they can be so dull
Bouncin’ back from being bumped against the wall
Even though some of the falling pieces don’t breakeven
I still get back to me

Loving your many different styles
Many different genres
Just to be with you, I’ve traveled miles
The way I love you, I won’t dare try to compare
Rhythm and Blues when I cruse
Pop & Hip-hop when I shop
Classic strings when I reminisce on things
Rap when I wanna scrap
There is never a time when your not there
I see you looking, just know I don’t like to share

Dear Library –any library—every library in all corners of the Earth (and maybe even beyond),

You were my first love. I can smell the aroma and feel the hushed silence and energy emanating from the knowledge even now in my mind as I think about the first time I entered you.

I do not remember specifically when, but I know specifically where.  I am positive I had many trips to the library with my grandmother, mom, and aunt on Saturday afternoons in my home town every few weeks as even an infant, but when I think about the early visits, I was at that age where I could make sense of words and their meaning. 

I can see myself as a little girl, stretched out in the aisles, specifically the biography aisles, combing through the first book I really remember reading about, Helen Keller. I can see myself pulling other books, looking at the back page first—there is something about that back page! 

I still remember feeling there was not enough time to pick out a book because I wanted THEM ALL, and just could not ever decide.  Hungry, I was so hungry for knowledge—all forms of it—there was this unknown concept of truth I carried in my heart, my mind, my soul, even then as a little girl.  I have diaries filled with this yearning for the “Truth.”  For, I instinctively knew it could only be found in the shelves of a library.

Dear Library, every single one of you I visit—whether in my city, my state, my country, or another city, state, or country (and I have visited several in my quest for Truth)—you all smell and feel the exact same. 

When I pass by one of your buildings—anywhere—I feel compelled to genuflect, for you are the Holiest of Holies. 

A library does not discriminate against its shelves…ALL books are welcome.  All themes, all colors, all topics, all languages—the library does not judge.

A library does not judge.

A library just “is” and let’s me be…dear library, YOU let me be whatever “me” I choose to be.

Because of you, dear library, any of us can escape to other lands.  Because of you, dear library, any of us can learn about absolutely anything we want…without the fear of being oppressed.

A library remains silent in its thoughts because a library is wise and understands that the truly wise are still and allow the space for growth and reflection and questions while others come to their own conclusions from knowledge gained.

Dear library, you are my best friend. I can come to you with any problem, and you can offer insight with your many shelves.  I will find someone who existed somewhere who has experienced what I am experiencing at any moment.

I know if heaven exists, and I believe it does, a library is just beyond the pearly gates—grand, wide, inclusive, and welcoming like any church existing, ever existed, or will exist in the future should be.

Oh, my dear tattered T,
How I love you so.
Found in a mall long ago
Among Hot Topic’s tableau,
Catching the eye of this young esthete.

Captivated by your design,
The notes all twirling ‘round,
Playing some mysterious sound,
A song to sing, but left unfound,
With only a skull to sign the by-line.

Many years have you sustained
To class, concerts, meets, and more,
Meeting the eyes who so adore
Your splendor without glamor,
Becoming threadbare but never stained.

Snugger than you were before,
Hugging my frame much tighter.
These days you feel lighter,
But you stay strong, my fighter,
Filling me each wear with ardor.

Some may say your time has come,
That you’re better fit for the grave,
No longer the current rave,
Not worth another save.
Still, I think you’re awesome.

I found you at a vulnerable time
When I was confused about things in my mind
Such a lonely place
Over and over the thoughts race
Looking for love, time and affection
Only to learn later in life…
Man’s rejection is God’s protection
From a time of promiscuousity
Fighting threw insecurity
You always listened and never judged
I return to you with my hopes and love
With secrets I can’t say aloud
Moments in my heart that make me feel proud
I appreciate all the moments
We’ve been able to share
Even when I put you down
And even inanimate I truly cared

To My Dear Hardwood Floor,

There has always been something about a well worn and used hardwood floor; the kind that gets smothered by the weight of a thousand stories. The dust and dirt and scuffs tell stories of long nights, the kind beginning with a casual two step and ending with a stranger being pulled closer than their partner ever meant to. It’s the place where my boots hit the ground in rhythm with the drums, some moving in perfect sync and others trying to look over their shoulder to watch the next step.

My floor has known the weight of tired bodies after a long week, the hesitant shuffle of someone gathering the courage to ask the pretty girl sitting alone for a dance, the quiet comfort of a chest to chest slow dance when words aren’t enough. You have been the setting for first kisses in the middle of a spinning turn, for whispered promises under neon lights, for goodbyes that hit harder than the final chords of a sad song. Through it all, no matter the emotion, my hardwood floor has caught me through it all.

You’ve had your share of being soaked in whiskey and beer. You have seen tempers flare, caught spilled tears and secrets, moment’s where the wrong song played at the wrong time, when two people stood inches apart- neither willing to walk away first. But, you’ve also held the reckless joy of hands clasped tight, of boots sliding easy across the wood, of laughter spilling between lyrics.

The true love of my life has truly healed a heart it didn’t break. It has healed me emotionally, and sent me on the adventures of a lifetime. No matter what has happened, you have been there to keep the music playing and my heart beating. You allow me to press my stories and emotions, anger and anguish and being alive, into the wood beneath me, allowing me to leave nothing behind but dust. You give me hope, allow me to leave footprints, but always promising that I can come back for one more song.

Love,

A girl head over heels to line dance

Dear Hip-hop,

How can I attempt to illuminate and help the world see
What it is that you mean to me?
It seems to me to be
An impossibility,
And yet if there’s any art that’s key
To settin’ the truth free,
It’s this rap game, this word wizardry.

So let me speak clearly–

As you tend to do
Let me paint a picture large enough to show ‘em all what’s true–
‘Bout every last facet of wonderful you.
Your good and your bad both deserve attention,
Here’s me tryin’ to hold them together in beautiful tension.

At 13, you made me feel alive- bumpin’ 50 Cent’s beats and bars while hustlin’ morning newspapers to my middle-class suburban neighborhood. Now, don’t get it twisted, you already know that I was never a gangsta. I grew up in a university town with university parents, chillin’ pretty near the top of ole Maslow’s hierarchy.

I didn’t know gang violence, profound poverty, or the proliferation of drugs. So, why did I, a nerdy, goodie-two-shoes kid fall so hard for you? Why did I risk my parent’s wrath, computer viruses, and legal trouble downloading your tracks off LimeWire? Stealing verses from 50 Cent, Eminem, 2Pac, and Luda? (Hopefully the statute of limitations comes in clutch to save me from this confession of my crimes and hopefully those rap masters forgive me for accessing their art in an illicit manner).

I’ve turned that question over for years. The answer is unfinished, but that’s what makes you powerful- you don’t demand neat explanations. What makes our love beautiful is that it doesn’t have to explain itself; it doesn’t need argumentation and logic to prove its worth; it doesn’t have to be classified or codified; it can just be appreciated for how it feels.

And hip-hop, you make me feel. All the feels- not just the positive ones of inspiration, hype, and connection. Also, discomfort, tension and contradiction.

Because yeah, you’re problematic-misogyny, glorification of violence, hatred, and division to name a few sticky spots. My parents would have clutched their pearls if they knew what lyrics you planted in my young mind. And yet, your tempestuous tracks gave me something real- a voice. A pulse. A reason to listen deeper. A reason to write.

So, when I found myself stumped, stuck in my job, feeling like another cog in the machine, I brought you into my classroom. Not just for the sweet beats, but as a blueprint. For fun, for connection, for opening minds a little wider. And in so doing, you changed me. You changed my students. You taught us how words can build bridges, how they can tear down walls, how they can transform just another boring day into something magical.

One student, quiet as a whisper, came alive as I rapped about the Holocaust, offering to make a music video for the track. A young lady who never saw herself in the pages of a book saw herself in your hard-hitting lines. You helped her to write and write and write- who she is, what she’s seen, and what she dreams of. You taught these students—and me—that resilience isn’t just about survival. It’s about remixing what we’re given- flipping the beat, finding the flow, and making something new.

While there is enough to this love story of ours to fill a whole book, I’d better sign off here. And what better way to do so than with more bars from and about the heart of it all?

Hip-hop’s a nifty tool,
Picked it up, thought it was cool,
I was lost, it’s what I found.
Now, my heart’s no longer bound.
Now, I always keep it poppin’,
Not a second saved for stoppin’
When a tasty beat gets droppin’,
I’ll be set to rock, always ready to resume.
I’ll be makin’ lines from now until I reach the tomb.
You gave me rhythm and a name,
Framed my world and changed my game.
It’s a confounding mystery, something that no words can describe.
The way these words wield powers, the way they build a tribe.
Our words are our strength,
And they go to any length,
To keep fuelin’ up our tank,
So words, it’s you I thank,
And all the masters of the game.
Thanks to you, my life has never been the same.
I will continue to use you, spinnin’ hope out of despair,
Thanks for fillin’ my cup and my classroom, breathin’ your magic in the air.

Dear Time,
I realized you are my greatest love story.
A slow burner that will last the ages.
The classic tale of enemies, to friends, then lovers.
Our friend Life introduced us.
I didn’t care for you at first.
Apprehensive of the moments that flew by way too fast.
You ripped family away.
Turned them into just memories
That could evaporate.
Childhood turned into adulthood in a blink of an eye.
The life I was living, was hard to live by.
I struggled to hold onto the past,
While the lessons of the present were slipping through my grasp.
My future turned into this clouded, dense fog;
The life I was living versus the feelings I was feeling
Felt like such a contrast.
I thought you broke me.
Angry for time I could not get back.
Hurt that days felt like years, but years flew like minutes.
I was stuck in this timeless loop that I could not break.
But Healing, she re-introduced us.
She taught me that you are rare and timeless.
While your hands may count down the hours, minutes, even seconds,
Your presence reminds us that nothing lasts forever, and that’s why you’re beautiful;
You make us remember that life is precious.
You have been so patient with me, Time.
There have been too many moments, too many trials, where I blamed you.
But that was Grief, Pain and Sorrow disguised as you.
Unbeknownst to me, you gifted me with the kiss of time.
Holding my hand while I healed.
Cradling my heart when I had to release and let go.
Encouraging me when I took the time to grow.
So, thank you, Time,
For all you have done.
I now slow down and try to embrace you
As you taught me I only get this one lifetime.
You’re the wrinkles around my eyes,
reminding me of a life full of laughter.
You’re the feelings of joy and pride
when I see my sisters and realize how time flew by.
You’re the tears in my eyes
when I notice the grey maturing my dog.
And you’re the one playing my heartstrings
when I dance to the memories of departed loved ones.
You are a blessing;
you were never a curse.
I’m sorry for the time I took second-guessing your work.
You gave me what I needed,
when I needed it.
I love you, Time.
Thank you, again, for your lessons,
for your patience and grace.
Now it is time for me to cherish you,
as I become the woman you’ve helped me embrace.
Love Always,
Your favorite Redhead
P.S. I’m so excited to see where you take me next.