college real life

March 23, 2013

"It's late again, and we've been talking all night.  

And this exact moment is why I love this little room here on the third floor.  It's the times you're so tired that you can't do anything but dream.  And you close your eyes, but you can't sleep because you find too many pretty thoughts there.  

And it's just another night.

We talk about books and we talk about faith and we try and figure out what we're supposed to do with forever.  

And we'll stay up some nights just because we're excited for tomorrow, and we'll stay up other nights just because we're scared.

And you know, late night talks have always been the best ones."

college is a good place, you guys.  

-Linds

openhearts

I took Katie home with me last Sunday.  I drove her all around.  We sat in your driveway and we talked on his stools and I showed her the intersection of 100 East and Center Street.  

Because I wanted her to see where everything happened.  

I wanted her to see where we road bikes and looked at Christmas lights and milked goats in your back yard.  I wanted her to see the roof we wished on and the deck where we played cards.  I wanted her to see the G and hill park and my little, one-step porch.

I wanted her to see the places where my heart grew. 

*** 

One day, you'll trade your little basement bedroom for a window on the third floor, and you'll give up your early morning classes for late night runs.  And you'll see faces you don't recognize, and you'll learn stories you've never heard.   

But, you know, something funny happens when you come to college.

Sunday night dance parties and fires in the canyon change faces you didn't recognize into people you don't want to forget.  

And you'll stay up late telling stories, because no one really sleeps here, and you'll start to realize why she smiles that way.  And you'll hear about past love and happy days and all those times they went to In and Out at midnight.

And she'll listen to you too.  

And it's like, all of a sudden, you'll start to see all of the moments and people and love that made you.  And you'll kiss your thumb after every pinky promise, and fortune cookies will make you sentimental.  

And you'll go to sleep smiling because everything usually works out.  

***

I fell in love with the mountains on rainy mornings, and the way the stars shine brighter when it's warm outside.  

And we all see things a little differently, and nobody's love is exactly the same.

My heart needed that street lamp and hers got that that pretty wooden bench.

And we all see things a little differently, but I guess that's just because hearts don't grow the same.

-Linds

Sentimental Hearts

I've been thinking about the mountains lately.  I've been thinking about all the nights I've spent there.  

That's something that I remembered a lot when I first came to school.  Hiking the G at midnight.  We didn't really want to, but somehow we found ourselves together there.

I remember the whispers as we walked, and I remember the lights we saw once we got there.  I remember the leaves and the dark the warm air.

Mostly, though, I remember that we didn't have any words.  Mostly because we didn't need them.  That night was about the clouds and the sky and realizing that this really was our home-- at least for a little while.  

And I remember saying thank you, with every part of my heart.  And I remember wondering if, quietly, you were saying thank you too.

*     *     *

I have this dream that one day, long after I've gone, you'll come back to this place just to see if it really was as beautiful as I always promised.

And when you do, I hope you'll open your eyes and find all of the love and thanks and life here that we did.


-Linds

New Love

6-24-12

Every summer, I seem to find myself sitting here on this front porch.  It’s little, but there’s just enough space for two people to squeeze on, and I’ve found that that’s all I’ve ever really asked of it anyway.  I look out to the dark weeds growing through the sidewalk and the blue shutters hanging from the house across the street. There are bumble bees next to me, and my feet feel warm on the pavement. 

And I say thank you because I can breathe here.   

Your heart changes sometimes, and so does your love.   

Sometimes you need to remember what it feels like to be alone.  Not because there aren’t plenty of people to be with or because there isn’t plenty of love to be found, but because sometimes you need to remember all the reasons you love yourself.  You are creative and happy and beautiful, and sometimes remembering that is the most important thing.

And sometimes you need to remember those things that make you happy, and sometimes the things that make you happy change.   


Today

It's hard to grow up sometimes.  Mostly because you're not sure what you love anymore.  Noah and the Whale might not always make your heart beat slower and one day you'll run out of late nights spent on the roof.  

Then again, you'll wake up one morning and realize that February is beautiful.  It's nice to see the sun again.  And there are trees everywhere you go, and people smile while they walk.  

And maybe you'll realize late nights spent in a dorm room can make you happy too, and waking up to the snow falling out your window is something to look forward to.  You'll have dance parties every Sunday, and letters come on Fridays now.

Your heart changes sometimes, and so does your love.

But all that means is there's more room. There's room for midnight drives and late night calls and time spent looking out your window.

There's room for vanilla scented candles and Boy Meets World marathons and nights spent dancing to 'Stolen' by Dashboard.  There's even room for the moon. 

And there's room for 18, and 19, and 20... and you can save some of 17 too.

It's hard to grow up sometimes, but it gets easier when you remember you can save your favorite parts.  You can save all the bike rides and concerts and quesadillas you made senior year. You can save 'Buffet Singles Ward Sundays' and that time you roller bladed to Macey's last summer.

You keep your courage and I'll keep my eyes and we can sit on this little porch all night.




-Linds

my place on the hill

Honestly, I don't remember a lot.

I don't remember what it smelt like or how the air tasted or even really what I was doing there.  I don't know if I was overwhelmed or happy.  I'm not sure why I was alone.

I remember the mountains, though.
I remember my leaky truck.  
I remember the lights and the lake and rolling down the hill in the summer.

And I'm not sure what I thought there, or why I always tried to make that hill my favorite place.

All I know is, I would give up a lot of days and grilled cheese sandwiches to sit up on my hill again. 

I'd walk to my car and roll down the window, even though it's winter and it's cold.  And I'd drive, and I'd drive, and I'd drive... just to sit on my hill, just to see the lights, just to be home... 

Just to drive right back.

And maybe it doesn't really matter what happened there.  Maybe it doesn't really matter if it smelt like rain or if it smelt like cut grass.  

Maybe the only thing that matters is that it took me when I was overwhelmed, and it took me when I was happy.  Maybe the only thing that matters is, it was the home that gave me the stars. 


-Linds