show me how to conquer twisted, knotted necklaces. show me blue sprinkles on magenta cupcakes with brilliant gold frosting. show me floor-to-ceiling shelves of a library through the eyes of a six-year-old seeing them for the first time. show me polished sentences on peeling pages. show me shivers and aches and that “it” factor. show me how to chop firewood. show me grace.  show me something broken that is beautiful, show me how all broken things can be beautiful. show me rainclouds so close i can touch them. show me how to iron men’s shirts without getting burned. show me somewhere i can scream and scream and no one will tell me to stop. show me more and more books and fewer electronic replacements. show me gardens of fresh food and kneading dough at the kitchen table. show me how the first human being fell in love with the loneliness of another.

please?

show me water i can eat, show me words i can drink. show me a professor who says, “capital letters hurt my eyes, too. you don’t have to use them.” show me gigantic sparkly rings on the fingers of all secretaries working for fortune 500 companies. show me casual tuesdays. show me a city where no one rushes. show me a bob dylan serenade. show me a trilingual seven-year-old who will grow up to become a chess champion who barely speaks. show me how it is that love seems to always be just around the corner. show me spiral staircases. show me a five, not fifty, percent divorce rate. show me transparency. show me a place i can fathom growing old. show me record players and family dinners and picture shows and things that never go out of fashion. show me how to tie a tie, show me how to last a full night in high heels. show me sugary tongues stained by lollipops. show me everyone knowing what it feels like to just know.

you know?

show me how to fix a hurting family. show me how to pass along the joy found in buttercups and the love in ragged stuffed animals. show me every ounce of someone’s attention. show me a heart that knows mercy. show me a bale of hay i can rest my feet on in a barn down the road. show me a sweaty run down an open road, sunset in the distance. show me celebrations of love and family and reunion. show me found paperclips and lost favorite pens, cookie batter being licked off the spoon and slipping in between worn-in sheets. show me stability without staying in one place and how to span time zones in an instant so i can give my father a kiss on his cheek. show me twelve white roses just because, and four old friends playing bridge, and asphalt warm with rain. show me a culture i share values with. show me highways of trampolines that insist we play in order to get where we’re going. show me how to scoop up vulnerability and infuse it with faith. show me a meal i’ll never forget and lines on a face i’ll always remember. show me writing in Italian with a green Sharpie, show me Crete in the summertime and Montana in the fall. show me laying in the sun and counting all the beautiful things i see. show me a vineyard i can roll around in, a cottage to call my own, and the wanderlust that decorates the life of a nomad.

show me flying down the roads of ‘the scenic route’ through a state i call home, riding shotgun next to someone special, & living life one adventure at a time.

…..wait, i can show you that.

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3 thoughts on “show me.

  1. this needs to be read slowly, so that each sinks in and allows a picture to float up in your mind. thanks, because each picture was great :)

    i love how, in old books, the words are the same – as pristine as when the book first went to print. they don’t say anything different, and the words, the story itself doesn’t fade. but, the book shows its age with faded pages, bent covers, and lines down the spine. old books are both timeless and old in the same moment.

  2. I’m extremely impressed with your writing skills as well as with the layout on your blog. Is this a paid theme or did you customize it yourself? Either way keep up the nice quality writing, it’s rare to see a nice blog like this one nowadays..

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