
Those days of sitting on the curb with your childhood friends at the beginning of the warmest rain. – Ash
Those days of sitting on the curb with your childhood friends at the beginning of the warmest rain. – Ash
no idea where I was going
where my footsteps were taking me
not long off the bus and my bags still hanging off the borrowed bed
I’m running toward something
my faith in a girl next door relationship
built on the stock of only a few summers
we were school break friends and I just had to see this
according to everyone
and everyone was going to be there
that was the promise and with a pinky swear
I was a nervous boy in a foreign land
on loan from thirteen-year-old best buds
speaking only the language of the shy and quiet ones
making what would become a beautiful memory
under the bright big moon
along the sparkle-kissed river
surrounded by the sounds of the teenage
on a warm night in August
by the trestle bridge
Screw the cab, it’s nice out, and I’m walking. Ah, the Christmas Eve Night walk home. This memory is further to the first snowfall entry I posted a few days ago in terms of the atmosphere it creates. A single awesome holiday mini-tradition that we tend to forget about. You don’t realize how Christmassy it is until you’re there in the moment. If you ask me, there’s no better backdrop to a beautiful Christmas then ending it with a brisk cool clean air walk home. Alone, or with a special loved one. Either way, it creates a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. You’re Christmas so far has been nothing but food, drinks, music, friends, and your loving family. Annnnd, the best part. Well, the best part was Santa still had to swing by the old house to drop off the gifts. Score. Oh, and turkey tomorrow…oh my God, Mmmmm, nan’s turkey!!!
Yes, I remember those nights when I close my eyes. How the stars always had the right amount of glow to them. Enough to guide you home. I loved how the streets had just fallen snow that sparkled in the light and covered the whole roadway. The only imperfection was a single set of tire tracks that belonged to that one taxi that was still making runs. I can still see those super big snowflakes as they fell sideways against the shine of the streetlight as I passed the last stretch toward home. By that time all I could think of was how comfy my bed was going to be.
Those chilled-to-the-bone but warm-to-the-heart walks home are still very vivid in my memory. No matter if it’s twenty years ago or just last year, I love a good stroll on Christmas Eve Night. Because in the end, there’s snow place like home and I’m going to jingle all the way.
We can’t carry on with the story of our lives without finishing all the chapters. No matter how some of them ended. – Ash
Friends come in flowers, some in weeds. The flowers rise with us, support us, and share in the things that help us grow and prosper. The weeds smother us, try to take us over, steal all the sunshine and choke out life until we fall. When you plant your gardens, make sure you can tell them apart. – Ash
In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. – Martin Luther King Jr.
Irish night
with a few black beers for luck
stood elbow to elbow
in the midst of strange drunkards
three sheets to the wind
placing little wagers before the clock struck
and the tender turns us away
like the last three nights we’ve been
A cold beer ran down my lips, to my chin
in a moment I knew would last a lifetime
there was a pool table…balls racked
ready for a break
some girl singing on the radio
we both sang a few of the words
those we could remember
all night we competed
best in banter,
best in billards,
best in brew,
but
never best in friends
that belonged to you