Bluebirds and Birch trees

 Nostalgia's not a bad thing, so long as you don't let it take away from your future.

 There's hope. There's always hope. Even when others tell you there's not. There's hope. There's hope my friend for new beginnings.  There's hope for new things. There's hope for beginnings. So don't give up my friend. There's always hope for new beginnings.  Whether it take you far or leave you near. There's always hope for your new beginning. Where will it take you, and what will you do. Even if you don't have the answer, God says, "I do."  Run to Him my friends, as I am learning to. Run into His loving arms. We'll find no better sanctuary.

 On one jacket I own, is a pattern of various stars. Some of them large, others small. While it might not be the warmest or even the prettiest, it's special to me because of those small stars.  I don't know when exactly stars started being so special to me. Maybe it was on one of those days when I realized that compared to somewhere I'd once been, the sky I see outside my window now holds so few.  Was it the day I saw the moon. Or the night the light came streaming through my window, bathing my bed in clean moonlight. The day I saw the full moon with clarity in its pale fullness. Or the night when the pale light eased my fears.  I do not know exactly when the night sky came to be so important to me.  All that I know is, I would not trade it. Not for the glow of the city nor spotlight.  Nothing manmade can yet compare to the serenity of that comforting moonlight as it spills through my bedroom window.

I have a guitar. Have I ever told you that? She's a lovely cherry red, I call her Aurora. Well, I do now anyways. It wasn't until recently that she had a name at all. You see, I wanted to name her something to do with gold because that's the color of her strings. And if it's one thing that school has taught me, it's that AU stands for gold.  AU for gold. Aurora for Aurora Borealis. When I think of the Aurora Borealis, I think of space and how beautiful it is. It's so full of colors that capture the eye and can take you beyond imagination. Words dare to describe the sheer terrifying beauty of space and all that it contains.  Space contains so many stars. Stars that sailors used to sail by. I often now wonder what it would be like to lay awake at night and stare up at the stars. For the night is not as dark as it seems. I wonder what it would be like to lie awake on the deck of a ship as the waves rock me to sleep while I gaze up at the sky. I wonder what it

 One of the joys about being a writer is that while I may take hours nitpicking over how to spell a simple character's name, whether or not it should have a certain vowel, or perhaps an unnecessary consonant in the middle there. I never forget that no matter how picky we may be with either our grammar, spelling, or even our syntax, that in the end–we still may sometimes write like this in our online/texting conversations: -Oy- -wat?- -noffin.- -k.- We truly can be the best of grammarly people......                                                                                   ..... when we feel like it.

 Sometimes life can catch us unawares. Especially when we least expect it. And while nothing particularly major has prompted this simple realization, it had been the culmination of many different and small things.  It can be hard, when you realize that things have changed. Sometimes so slowly you don't even see once something has been completely turned around, others more quickly.  It's strange to think about, all these simple days going by one by one. So unassuming. And yet, they pass.  Each day passes whether I make something of it or not. Each day goes by and many I don't even realize. Hours slip away until I don't even realize they've done it. Until before long, it's a new day again.  When did this happen, and why? Are hours suddenly shorter or filled less somehow. I doubt that. I believe it is me who has changed. That tends to happen, especially when we least expect it.  When did I get to be this age? How come some things from years ago still seem li

 Dear Chapter 1,  Why must you be so difficult? Forgive me if that seems forward. But I really think we have a problem. Your incessant inability to say what you mean, or what would be right to say. Tendencies to dawdle and delay, no knowing what to say. Why, just right now I do believe you enjoy not having any words on your page.  Oh how you infuriate me Chapter 1! You really do. Rewrite and delete, the circle is always the same. Oh when oh WHEN will you let me say what it is that I want to say!  Chapter 1, I know you have a load of possibilities, all wrapped up into one and simple phrase. That first sentence, that first solitary strand of words that so often change the tide. Must you be so picky, with both your words and understanding.  I do have to say, that this is quite possibly the most hardest thing I've ever had to say.  Chapter 1. You are the hardest.  No offers of what should be said or how I should proceed. You have no guidance and nothing with which to build