sweet southern soul

You think it’s cool to hate things. And it’s not. It’s boring. Talk about what you love and keep quiet about what you don’t.

A woman is unstoppable after she realizes she deserves better.

sometimes she drinks coffee in the morning to wake up her tired mind. that is only if I am not there to begin her day with a kiss. when she drives, she concentrates on the road but every so often you’ll hear “why the hell is that car driving like that?” and if you’re lucky enough you’ll catch a glimpse of her staring at you. she’s smart. she could go on and on about the way cells make up our entire body or how our heart is the one thing that we have to rely on to live. the second thing I rely on is her. she always wants three minutes. me to hold her for three more minutes, three more minutes of a song, three more minutes of silence. three minutes was all it took for me to fall for her. she is my mornings, my evenings and every time the clock ticks in between. she is my hello kiss and my goodbye kiss when we know we can’t see each other for a little longer. she is my every reason, every hope and every dream. all the little accidents led me to her. my atoms have always loved her atoms.

My grandma is eighty-two, and I love to look at old photographs of her and my grandpa. She told me one morning while we were flipping the pages of an album that getting old is like carrying all these selves with you. She said she remembers just how that thirteen-year-old in the picture felt, and how that nineteen-year-old bride felt, and how that thirty-year old on the back of a motorcycle felt. She said you carry them inside you, collecting them along the way, more and more and more selves inside you with each passing year, like those Russian dolls, stacking one inside the other, nesting within themselves, waiting to be discovered, one and then another.

My Mom just accidentally prematurely sent an email to an accounting firm… It was supposed to say ‘I am afraid that we will have to postpone our meeting”