Full House

Reggie looked like a puppy again. He lowered his head, licked bits of snow and came up with snow clinging to his nose. At 13 years old, he’s definitely getting up there in years. His colors aren’t as defined; the grey almost overpowers the reddish brown in some places. But he’s still a puppy.

JuneBug, on the other hand, shivered from her spot on the path between the porch and the driveway. Last winter was her first experience in snow, and a limited one at that.

Reggie welcomed it and JuneBug didn’t know what to do.

Ollie would have been out there tonight bounding through the freshly coated lawn. His ears would flop and he’d come back to the house with snow balls clinging to his furry poodle legs. I wish I would have seen that tonight. Ollie loved snow, too.

Grady will be out there playing soon. Finlay will join come Christmas Day.

Our house will be filled to the brim with brothers, significant others and canine companions (not to mention our two feline friends).

Maybe it’s all been a dream and Trevor took Oliver back to Long Island with him and never told us. Ollie and Finn will fly out of the car as soon as the door is opened. We’ll be so happy to have a complete family. Oh, and maybe they’ll have Papa with them, too. I know Papa would love JuneBug.

We’ll have a full house soon. And I’m definitely not complaining.

I’m actually wishing it could be filled exactly to the brim as it should be.

Everything is connected and beautiful

It was beautiful. The snow glittered in the light the streetlamp gave off and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. He held my hand as we trudged across his yard, he in his boots and me in my Converse high tops. After awhile, I couldn’t handle it anymore, and he noticed. He scooped me up and carried me to our destination: the swings.

I immediately felt disappointment upon arriving. I saw that I couldn’t swing because the snow was so high that the necessary pumping would be impossible. He, wanting to fix the problem, set about trying to fling the swing over the bar to make the chains go up a little higher. When he couldn’t do it, I settled on the lowly swing (my pew, to those who read my poetry…oh wait, you don’t), and straightened my legs as he pushed me toward the tree. He stumbled and fell when he was pushing me, and I swung back and ended up on top of him. We got soaked, but couldn’t help but laugh. I kissed him, kept laughing, and then Becky and Thad came over to assist us after witnessing the whole thing.

Thad had a different way of getting the swing to go over the bar, so when he failed his first try, Robby tried the new method, and succeeded. I was finally free to swing without the snow on the ground interfering.

It was just like it had been over the summer, only so different. I can’t believe I sat on the same exact swing over the summer without knowing whose backyard I was practically in; without knowing that I would soon fall hard for the boy who lives in that yellow house. Because I am falling. Hard. And I know that once I’ve fallen all the way, he’ll be there to catch me so I don’t smash into a million pieces upon welcoming the ground with my body. He’ll be there to keep me safe as he has been doing for the past month and a half of my life. Since that night he stopped my tears and made me laugh. Since that night, I realized that there was something special about him.

After I got too high up for him to push me anymore, I looked at the tree whose leaves I had kicked over the summer. Things had definitely changed, but it was a beautiful change. The cold air pierced my exposed hands and bit into them, giving them more sore and dry cracks, but I didn’t care. It felt so good to swing after months of not having the chance to.

I slowed down, and he greeted me with a kiss. That’s the best greeting I could have asked for. It showed that I had left one dreamland and entered another one.

We trudged through the snow again, holding hands and looking up at the stars. It’s a beautiful thing. But then again, everything has been beautiful lately. To me, anyway.

Dear March, come in!

This poem by Emily Dickinson leaves me praying for March throughout the winter. Well, it’s finally here. And here’s the poem for your viewing pleasure:

Dear March-Come in-
How glad I am-
I hoped for you before-

Put down your Hat-
You must have walked-
How out of Breath you are-
Dear March, Come right up the stairs with me-
I have so much to tell-

I got your Letter, and the Birds-
The Maples never knew that you were coming-till I called
I declare-how Red their Faces grew-
But March, forgive me-and
All those Hills you left for me to Hue-
There was no Purple suitable-
You took it all with you-

Who knocks? That April.
Lock the Door-
I will not be pursued-
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied-
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That Blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame-

I don’t know why there are a whole bunch of hyphens. Ignore those; that’s not how it is in my book of Emily’s poems. I just love this poem. The way she personifies the months and the trees “The maples never knew / That you were coming, – I declare! / How red their faces grew!” That is probably my favorite line in the whole poem.

Last year, I kicked myself for not appreciating March like Emily does in this poem. I spent all winter reviewing that poem, just looking forward to March and the changing of the seasons, when it suddenly passed by me without even saying goodbye. This time, I plan to enjoy it.

Today brought my dog’s birthday. He turned eleven years old today and it’s scary that he’s really getting up there in years. He’s laying right next to me as I listen to Psapp (a band I just found today), text Robby, read Emily’s poetry, check my facebook and write this blog entry. He’s in his own little dreamland and kicks every now and then. I can’t believe that it has been 11 years since that day that I was five years old and we went to visit that litter of eleven puppies. One of Reggie’s sisters wouldn’t stop licking me, and I wanted her, but my mom came out of the sea of puppies with Reggie in her arms, and we never looked back after that.

Other than that, today was any other day. Yesterday Robby (you, reader, might as well be aware of my boyfriend’s name, since I will probably be writing about all of our adventures in the future) and I built a snowman out in my front yard. The snow was the perfect packing snow, and Robby rolled a ball around until it turned into the huge base for our snowman. From there, we messed around with my brother’s dog and tackled each other because, in the snow, nothing hurts. Amidst the tackling, snowball-throwing and occasional kiss or two, we managed to finish the snowman. Well, not totally; we still have the to put stuff on the face and give him arms, but the framework is standing securely in my front yard. All we have to do is get our butts out there to finish it sometime this week. That should be no problem.

I’ll miss the fun times in the snow Robby and I have had, but I won’t miss the white stuff once it’s gone. March is now here (come in!) and I can’t wait for that first real warm and mild day where the birds are out and I can finally open my window without a risk of catching pneumonia. That first day where the birds singing accompanies a chorus of dripping icicles and drainpipes is my favorite day of the year. After that day, I look forward to when our lilies pop up again. I can’t wait for that, either.

Snow day: take two

I have been enjoying me a nice, long four-day weekend. Friday we didn’t have school, then Saturday and Sunday brought the lovely weekend, and now Monday has arrived, and I enjoyed going back to sleep after I woke up at six o’clock this morning. Tomorrow we have school (if we don’t have another now day hehe), after that it’s the rest of this week and all of next week off for Winter Recess. I love taking days off.

With every day that is a snow day, my Spanish presentation is put off another day. That’s good because Thursday night I didn’t feel like typing it out and last night I didn’t feel like it either. Maybe tonight I will gain some responsibility and manage to sit at my computer long enough to type out a simple thirty-line Spanish presentation. As it is, I highly doubt that I will end up doing that. I will put it off again tonight and then have to type it up in school tomorrow morning. I procrastinate, so what?!?

So, what should I do today? It’s 10:24 and time is endlessly stretching out before me. Eh…today I will sit around knitting and knitting and knitting, obsessively checking my MySpace, Facebook, Shelfari page, SOS page and blog, possibly cleaning my room, maybe even looking for props for my presentation (again, doubt it!), and making some cookies. I am in the mood for cookies.