He'd thought to find some place in the road where the snow had melted off completely but then he thought that since their tracks would not reappear on the far side it would be no help. They kicked snow over the fire and went on through the trees and circled and came back. They hurried, leaving a maze of tracks and then they set out back north through the woods keeping the road in view.

-- The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. Vintage Books: pp 104

But there was no sign left of the bears from the night before. He put out his hand and stopped, waiting, listening in the whistling wind for the hungry animals that stalk the forest.

"I think we're safe," the girl said.

He shook his head but began moving anyway, ignoring the way the cold cut his cheeks until he couldn't feel them anymore. They couldn't stop after this, not for more than five minutes at a time, and only if they have to. The woods are never safe. He shouldn't have listened to her. Their tracks, no matter how confusing, are still a sign of food.

The girl walked beside him and wrapped her coat more tightly. Her hands were pale, probably numb, but at least they weren't blue. Yet. "Sorry I made that fire last night," she said. "Are you still mad at me?"

A twig snapped nearby, and immediately they stopped moving, holding their breaths as they took in the sounds around them.

He finally relaxed. "No," he said. It wasn't worth it, dealing with things that have already passed. The next best option would be to leave her, but they've come this far and there was still farther to go. Besides, the bears have better ears in the wintertime for careless, arguing people.

She frowned, and closed her eyes. "You're lying."

They followed the road silently for the rest of the way, stopping just once to empty the snow out of their boots. The sun disappeared in the grey sky, its silhouette just a shadow of itself until finally it wasn't there anymore, and the forest was black and angry again. But in the distance he could see faint lights blinking their way through the trees.

He could see the girl stumbling and caught her arm just as she tripped, her eyes tiredly staring into his before they narrowed into the distance. "Ah," she said, her voice a faint sigh. "We're here."

sash

Today I went shopping and found The One.  The love of my life, my dream come true; I found the perfect dress.

Pale pink silk, white sash draped loosely around the waist, it was girly and flirty and romantic.  I was just passing by to the jeans section, but my eyes got caught and suddenly I was frozen as my mind whirled with possibilities.  I could dress it up with a blazer and heels.  I could dress it down with black tights and flats.  I could accessorize it with that gold necklace I never found to match anything.  Oh my god, that sash is removable?  The dress seduced me before I could even think.

I had to tread carefully.  You can't just buy a dress like that!  You had to be careful, try it on, touch and feel it before it will commit to you.  I brought it to the dressing room and zipped it up.  The mirror smiled at me as the dress accentuated my legs and hid my hips.  Perfect.  Beautiful.  I adore you.

I twirled around in the room for a while before finally switching back to my clothes.  It was settled, of course.  I brought the pink beauty to the register and took out my wallet.

"One hundred and sixty three dollars, thirty nine cents, please," the lady behind the till smiled.

My face reddened with shame as I could hear a trill of laughter.  What a tease.

Journal

My journal is my best friend because I tell her my secret thoughts and hopes and dreams that I've never told anyone else before.  And of course, I'm her best friend because she reveals herself only to me.  She's a loner that way.  But if she ever interacts with anyone else, I would cry and jump off a cliff.  There's some seriously embarrassing and even incriminating things that my journal knows about me.

So I did what any logical person would do.  I burned my journal.

My mother screamed as I shredded the pages of my best friend into the smoking grill.  It wasn't too painful, tearing apart my only confidant that I've shared laughs and tears with over the last two years.  I've had other best friends before, and I've gone through this same exact ritual.  But this was the first time my mother has caught me in the act.

Her eyes were wild with panic.  "What are you doing?"  

I couldn't let her ruin my best friend's death, so I continued tearing pages as I stepped in front of the watering can. The flame grew as I finished up, and I smiled with satisfaction as my mother stared in wonder and fear.

For her sake, I should keep to inanimate best friends.

bliss

Shackles and weights and heavy stones in your pocket, pulling with your weight so you trudge your feet, slowing you down until you can't and won't move.

Bliss is when you open the window and jump into the blue.  Just jump, eyes closed, wind in hair, hands open.  There's a moment - fear, pain, something gripping the insides and pulling you back, or trying to, at least.  It goes away.  Don't worry.  Scream with joy, cry with the heart, laugh with love, and don't look down.  Nothing follows because nothing else jumps, and now the rope is loose, falling, gone, and you are gone.  Fly in the blue, and always keep the hands open.

pendant

It was our two-year anniversary.  I was wearing a new dress, one that cost more than my last paycheck, and it took over two hours to do my hair and makeup.  I've been waiting all month for this.  He smiled at me from across the table, a twinkle in his eye.  It's happening today.

It was a candlelit dinner under the stars.  The wine was excellent, the entrees delicious, the atmosphere so romantic.  Everything was perfect.  After dessert, he reached out and held my hand, and he told me I looked beautiful.  "I love you," he said.  I told him I loved him too.  He slid the black box across the table and looked nervous.  My heart pounded against my chest as I slowly opened it.

Unsexiest surprise ever.

busy

I'm learning about priorities.  I'm learning that being busy is being productive.  Procrastination is fun and all, but it's all about pushing through and getting things done.










It's really hard when I keep getting interrupted.  Can't they see me working?  So then I have to stop what I'm doing and help them out.  Yeah, I know.  I'm too nice.  Gotta work on that sometime.

amazon

Deep in the amazon where the trees grow to be so thick so that no light passes through, there is a well.  The well is made of stone and isn't too deep because if you shine a flashlight, you can see the bottom of it.


In the bottom of the well lives a big fish.  It swims around in circles, doing nothing except looking up every now and then when someone shines a light down.  No one knows how it got there and no one knows why it's still alive.  But it is.


I only know the well exists because my grandfather's friend's uncle's wife's nephew promised he's seen it.  I don't know who my grandfather's friend's uncle's wife's nephew is, but if he's seen it then I believe him.  He said that only people dying of thirst ever find the well.  When he was in the amazon researching mosquitos, he became suddenly dizzy and dehydrated.  He moved so deeply into the shade that he fell through some trees and found the well.


He said he tried to get water from the well, but once he lowered a bucket, the fish spoke out to him.  Fish don't speak, if you've tried to talk to one.  At least a fish has never spoken to me.  But this fish in the bottom of the well could speak, and when he did his voice was low and echoed on the walls of the well.


The fish said, "If you want to drink, then drink.  But if you want to eat, then pick me up yourself."


My grandfather's friend's uncle's wife's nephew was only thirsty, but he was curious.  He asked the fish, "Have you met people who wanted to eat you?"


He was shining the flashlight down the well to watch the fish swim around in circles.  But when he asked that question, the fish stopped swimming.  "If you want to eat, then pick me up yourself," the fish said again, softer and more persuasively.


He got scared and just drank some water, leaving the bucket for the next person.  But if you ever go to the amazon and find the well yourself, remember this: a fish should not be talking.