if i am graced to have a daughter
i want her to be a fool, a beautiful little fool.

a fool in the sense that she dreams too big
i hope she runs head first into a multitude of hopes for what she wants to be
i hope she runs around with her little legs carrying her weight telling everyone that when she's ten, oh when she's ten, she'll be the queen of every nation and that the people will sing twinkle twinkle as a global anthem

a fool in the sense that she rushes into things
never looking before she leaps, just diving straight in
leaving behind a trail of mass destruction with her tiny hands all stemming from that beautiful little mind of hers

a fool in the sense that she so easily falls in love
from falling in love with a cartoon character to falling in love with herself
but not just falling in love, giving the love back onto whoever she deems it fit for

i hope she's a fool
because by being a fool she will live a life that meets it's greatest potential
and that beautiful little fool will be just like her mother
a fool for whatever life has to offer

Standing on a ledge in a summer's night air
Wishes shimmer across a dark lake
Light as a wisp of air
Dreaming yet still awake
At a time when I believed in hope
Lost dreams that still overcome me, when I am all alone
Back to this moment, I wish I could lope
Wrapped amid
The warm night air
When I was just a kid

This probably isn't what they are called,
And I can't think of the elusive word,
But...I really like bike bells.

You know the ones!
The little diddlydoos on the handlebars of a ten-year-old's bike.
The ones that go
bbbBBBB
      RRRRRrrrrr
           iiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIII
                  NNNNnnnnnn
                 ­      ggggggGGGGGG!

God, they're my favorite.

Because, you see...here's the thing:

When you were a ten-year-old,
Riding a bike to some friend's house your mom didn't approve of,
Did you ever bbBBrrIInnGG the bike bell on your bike when you were upset?

Of course not!

Bike bells are a child's way of telling the world,

"Guys! GUYS! I had a really good day!"

And it makes me happy to know some little kid is so joyful they can't help but bbBBrrRRiiIInnNNggGG all the way down the street.

scars tell stories

how the ones on my right knee
say that i was a fun loving kid who skipped down a gravel hill
how my brother carried me back to my parents
how i felt proud about my scar and could tell all the kids on the playground how i got it

how the one on my right shin
shows that i love tromping through blackberry bushes
at camp with friends trying to find the biggest ones
it makes me relive the memory of being there with them

how the one on my left arm
shows that i was a stupid kid
and that i turned up the speed on that treadmill too much
and fell and got stuck with it burning my back and cutting into my arm

how the ones on my left wrist
show that i am fighting a war with myself
everyday
that i am trying to feel something besides nothing
that i want to be in control

scars tell stories
each one is a chapter in my life
that i am going to remember forever
some dark
some light
but they’re mine