let's start over

Source: ascphoto.tumblr.com via From London With Love on Pinterest

Let's be kinder this time, from the beginning.

Let's know we're in love and say it out loud.

You can shake my dad's hand and make eye contact with him.

I can show up in myself when you kiss me. And I can kiss you back.

You can say nice things to me, and I won't drink at parties so that I won't embarrass you.

We can give up 7 years of selfishness and genuinely smile because we like it.

Let's pretend that none of the in-between happened if our friends bring it up.

Let's hold hands and pray.

Let's get dressed up and go dancing.

Or else, if you want...

we can just keep living in empty rooms and talking to imaginary versions of each other. For years and years.

Maybe I just thought I was in love because of the song that came on the radio when you walked into the room for the very first time.

It can be tricky like that. 

And we can keep going, because there's not much choice. 

i have dreams

In my daydreams, I am sitting next to someone who smells nice. There is Russian music in the background, and when I touch the skin on my face, it is soft like summer and I no longer crave sugar. I crave to run through the fields and have itchy farm-legs. To run until I gasp for breath and Rosy runs next to me, and in the end of the dream, we both jump into the lake, and no seaweed will wrap its arms around me and drag me down into the snapping turtles on the bottom.

The real dreams I have at night are stress dreams. Stress dreams of leaving children very much un-babysat. I leave them before their parents come home, and then always in the dreams (with or without the children) I have to run from Sandy to Murray. Or from Salt Lake to Holladay, and I never know how long this will take me. I run to babysit these kids. Or I run for other reasons.

Every time I see a white Land Rover, I recall the red-faced couple who came to get their extra-dry 1 pump white mocha soy cappuccinos and sandwiches with the sausage taken off. I quickly recall the nightmares that they gave me.

Lord, have mercy on me.

Ben Dory's dad was J.D.

He still is. He was like, uncle J.D. to me back then, though. He was really cool. My dad would make fun of him, because he had a ponytail. But they were the same age, and I think J.D. wore a leather jacket. But for sure I know he had a ponytail and rode a motorcycle. I remember him giving us rides on the motorcycle at probably midnight. Or it felt like midnight when you're five.
And once, he took Ben and I to his work with him, where he made robots, and one of them started moving towards us while he was in the bathroom and we fuhreaked out.

J.D.'s still married to Lisa, the feminist. Ben's mom. She would let her leg hair grow out and bleach it. Which seems like more work to me then shaving. But one time, she drank some coke on the beach, and a bee was in the coke can, and she got stung.

She cleaned both my mouth, and Ben's mouth out for saying Shut Up to the dog next door. She's a good mom.

I'm pretty nervous to ever leave my room.
9 days left of hell.