Every day I come to this site, and every day I stare at the blinking cursor, punch the space bar a few times, refresh the page, and close the browser. Perhaps not at poetic as the shutting of a blank journal, but significant nonetheless. I am deciding, right now, to write more. Lots and lots of people recommend writing every day, although I can't recall the famous author who advised such, even if it's just to write what you had for breakfast this morning.
This morning, I had an apple for breakfast. And last Tuesday, Jesse Hill was killed in a dirt biking accident. The last time I saw Jesse was on Easter Sunday; the last actual conversation I had with him was probably when I was 13 and he was 10. He was one of Graham's closest friends from middle school. I talked to my mom about the service last night; all these names kept coming up, little boys who are not little boys any more, boy scouts who are college-age men, doing college-age things, not thinking about the pinewood derby or working on homework while my mom teaches a bunch of 8 year-old kids how to tie knots.
Wednesday I went to a banquet in Tuscaloosa, where I got to see my family and many friends. I got there late and enjoyed the dinner and the speakers and the South African Ballet troupe. I missed the drummers. I showed everyone my quilt and drank a Red Stripe and stayed up really late talking about scotch tape and smart cars and I ate Taco Bell with Ryan Spain.
Please, remember me, happily, by the rosebush laughing.
- Grace
- Florence, Alabama, United States
- Dancing in both directions at once so everyone won't notice that she's never heard this song before.
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