Tag: writing

Human Window Panes

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Eyes are the windows to the soul, but a person’s laughter can tell you just as much, if not more. Laughter comes in various degrees and pitches. Outgoing versus its shy counterpart, the sad laugh versus the happy laugh, and even the ‘trying too hard to cover the sadness’ laugh- we still know, no need to fake it.

An outgoing laugh is a shock to the system. An all-of-a-sudden loud gong crash that rings out nothing but pure, soul-filled octaves of happiness. Outgoing laughter is contagious, it’s in every feature of a face showing from the rose glow that spreads across cheeks, the squinting eyes that seem to smile as well, the wide open mouth showing every happy tooth, and the head toss back that lets these chimes spread through the sky and make even the sun seem to smile down. An outgoing laugh is the purest form of a happiness that a human can seem to possess.

A shy laugh is nothing close to a gong crash, more of a quiet bubble. The sound of the wind rustling tree leaves on a fall morning, letting some slowly dance to the ground. Shy laughs are pink cheeks and eyes that don’t quite hold your gaze. It’s hands that quickly come up to hide teeth and ghost smiles. Although a shy laugh is not abrupt and straightforward, the eyes of the human will still glow with the pure form of happiness found in the head toss back of those with an outgoing laugh. Those shy laugh having humans’ eyes will glow and radiate a warmth like no other, they have their own sun inside of them. If you’re attentive enough to a shy laugh- a quiet sprinkle of rain sounding laugh- then you too, will see this sun light shine through.

Inside these categories of outgoing and shy, are subcategories of happy and sad and ‘trying too hard to cover the sadness.’ A happy laugh is easy to identify, for it always brings others happiness too. Listening to someone with a happy laugh is like watching sweet honey drip from their lips. A sad laugh mimics the whine of a puppy stuck in a cage, it’s still cute but it tugs at your soul in a way you can’t describe. A ‘trying too hard to cover the sadness’ type of laugh is a little harder to notice. Unless you’ve experienced it firsthand, it’s hard to hear it in others. It’s the type of laugh that mimics the beautiful croon of a violin, or a heart wrenching opera. Both are beautiful but some don’t ever see the true meaning underneath. It’s a big toothy smile that doesn’t ever make the eyes smile too. Everyone has heard it, but not all have realized it.

-Passages from a young M

The Blue Jay Escaping the Robin’s Nest

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We have always lived in homes that weren’t quite ours. My brother and I stand between walls built on instability, irritability, and ignorance. We occupy homes owned by men who date our mother, men who assume we have ‘daddy issues’ and try to take over the fatherly role. I defy this assumption, branded disrespectful, bratty, rude, and intolerable because I turn to my strong father for guidance and ignore the shrieks of men with no significance to me.

Our mother’s unhappiness and unsure feelings made us move every few years, making it even harder to find a home in these houses. Our unsure feelings are never noted, though. As long as we have a roof over our heads, it doesn’t matter, they say. Cole looks to me for guidance and I try my hardest to play the role of strong sister. ‘We’ll make it out of this,’ I always promise.

Cole and I found our solace, our own little island getaway, in the home of our grandparents. Walking in, the house always greeted us with chiming voices and sweet, drifting smells. It’s heart was found in the living room, the coziness and homey feeling wrapped itself around you, blanketing you in comfort. The fire place radiated a heat that warmed every physical aspect of your being, while friendly voices and kind conversation warmed you emotionally. This house, this getaway island, renewed he feeling of safety inside of us and reminded us of what a real home has the potential to feel like.

We’ve lived in a house now for quite sometime, but I still anticipate the abrupt get up and go. Every day, since the 8th grade, my thoughts have been a constant mantra of ‘just a few more years.’ Years have turned to months now and I’m waiting by the open window watching the days creep by. I’m waiting for the exact moment I can finally be the bird that flies away. The blue jay that flies far from the robin’s nest.

-Passages from a young M

Candy Core

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My name is Maria, meaning ‘sea of bitterness’ or ‘sea of sorrow.’ Although I can’t disagree and say those meanings are untrue, I would like to say that I wish they were not. I’m not necessarily bitter but sadness taints my edges like the frost creeping on a window pane. I wish I had another name, one that didn’t sound like chalk squeaking on a blackboard, or an awkward silence in a crowded room. To me, my name is a glob of peanut butter, stuck to the rood of your mouth and splatting onto the ground once you finally get it out.

I wish for a sweeter name, one that mirrors my candy core and not my sour exterior. Alice, Olivia, or Jacey with a sweet nickname like Ali, Olive, or Jace. Alexis, Rachel, or Marielle to Lexi, Rach, or Marie. Simple enough to roll off the tips of anyone’s tongue, but sugary enough to melt and let the taste linger.

‘Maria’ remind me of a girl with eyes and eyebrows that take over her features. Too passive and not at all fierce like the women she idolizes. A girl who waits in the shadows and listen to the problems surrounding her instead of taking the spotlight where she could be heard. ‘Maria’ resembles memories of harsh syllables spat in anger and sobs that dripped and melted off of it’s letters. ‘Maria’ is a name that has no wiggle room, no nickname to hide behind or to help ease the past.

I can’t help but wonder if someone else thinks of my name in an opposite way. As a gentle symphony of sopranos and altos, or if someday could think of it that way. I struggle to accept what I cannot change, to love and adore the chalk board squeaks and sticky globs. Welcoming the saucer eyes and thick eyebrows splattered with freckles between them that the syllables tend to remind me of. To someday think of it in a softer tone; a lovely breeze that carries dandelion seeds, or the sound of waves caressing the shore.

Be safe from me

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I’m colors swirled together to create the most hideous shades of brown.

My emotions lay scattered in an incomprehensible mess.

Dripping uncertainty and lacking stability, I find myself constantly tripping over my own downfalls.

My heart has been carelessly put back together with cheap dollar store glue and bandaids.

Sharp, jagged edges stick out every which way and slice anyone willing to get close.

You, my dear, are nothing in comparison.

You’re a masterpiece of clear, bold lines and the most vivid colors to match your eyes.

A timid glance steals my breath and any sane person can see the art you create within yourself.

Strength and courage emanate from you like heat from the sun,

and I wish to spend my days basking in those rays.

Every positive connotation I can think of ends up becoming your name falling from my lips,

leaving a sugary residue on my tongue sweeter than even the most artificial candies.

An addiction, that’s what you are, more so than the strongest drugs or alcohol.

You have temptation oozing from your pores,

and I can’t help but want you in the most demanding ways.

Do not take yourself for granted, though, my love

and put yourself on the line

for someone as lost and hopeless as I.

For the love of God, please,

don’t break your own heart trying to fix mine.