Same with this one
Same with this one. No need to read.
I Miss Fire
By Amanda Humphrey
Snow reminds me of powdered sugar lightly dusted on top of one of those four pound fruit cakes infomercials show right around Christmas time. My mother always managed to acquire one from some great cousins uncles mother who had the time and the money to ship five pounds of fruity awfulness but couldn’t send a card let alone real presents. In my case, the fruitcake was shaped like a mitten surrounded by water and the lightly dusted powdered sugar was snow that had been dumped out by a cement truck pourer all over showing no signs of the stale fruit or nuts. I hate fruitcake. And snow.
The second week of March signaled the hopeful beginning of soon to come spring activities. But old Jack frost couldn’t leave without his last blizzard of the season, as if to review for us the hellacious winter we had just experienced and to tell us that even though summer was just around the corner, Mr. Frost would be back all too soon.
I loved the second week of March. It reminded me of all my good summers and springs from the past and that cold weather would soon be gone so that when my vehicle-less self needed to strap on my walking shoes to go somewhere, I wouldn’t have to wade through thigh high drifts of snow or face reddening winds that always managed to attack my ears and nose before any other body part making me appear to be an elephant looking version of Rudolf. Not to mention the oversized olive green coat, bulky charcoal gloves, and a pink trio scarf. I being the fashion nazi I am, would have sent anyone other than my self back into the house to correct such a horrible situation. My excuse, however, is only that I cant afford to match my accessories at the moment.
I sat down at my kitchen table gazing out the window on this mid march afternoon and watched the snow saunter ever so slowly down to the ground every once in a while. The houses that are walking distances away loomed over my lower level two-bedroom apartment. So perfect they are with the coordinating shudders to match the paint job and fancy window treatments, and properly placed French doors. They would be fun to decorate. My room looked like a sixteen year old lived in it. And my bathroom and kitchen had themes of their own. Maybe its been so long since I’ve decorated a room that made me revisit the familiar surroundings of high school like ideas. But it was homey, lived in, and comfortable. Most of it reflected me or my life at some point in time. My hallways and living room had bare white walls screaming for some color, decorations, or anything to make it feel homey and warm. A few sporadically placed items of furniture, a table and chairs, and a TV with no cable or hook up for a VCR was on a stand against the only wall with windows. A floor lamp illuminating the far corner where the glow of the dining room light didn’t quite reach.
It was ordinary. Nothing spectacular. But I guess that’s how my life is. Ordinary. I work full time with a day off here and there and the occasional outing with a friend. I go back to school in the fall and that’s about the extent of excitement in my life. When I lived in the south, at least I was always meeting new people and getting invited to do things. Here I can travel any direction and no farther than a half an hour away would find someone I’ve known my whole life.
I don’t know. I guess I miss the excitement I used to have in my life. The love for life I used to have and the spontaneity of it all. I miss having someone to share it with. Not just “dating” someone either; a true blue, over the fence, world-series kind of love. A relationship between two people who loved first and knew later.
I’m turning twenty this year and as young as that truly may sound I’ve grown ups a lot in my last three years. Yea how wonderful it is to be an adult. A boring, ordinary, losing her figure, has been whose life is going to-BZZZZZZZZZ.
Laundry’s done.
I Miss Fire
By Amanda Humphrey
Snow reminds me of powdered sugar lightly dusted on top of one of those four pound fruit cakes infomercials show right around Christmas time. My mother always managed to acquire one from some great cousins uncles mother who had the time and the money to ship five pounds of fruity awfulness but couldn’t send a card let alone real presents. In my case, the fruitcake was shaped like a mitten surrounded by water and the lightly dusted powdered sugar was snow that had been dumped out by a cement truck pourer all over showing no signs of the stale fruit or nuts. I hate fruitcake. And snow.
The second week of March signaled the hopeful beginning of soon to come spring activities. But old Jack frost couldn’t leave without his last blizzard of the season, as if to review for us the hellacious winter we had just experienced and to tell us that even though summer was just around the corner, Mr. Frost would be back all too soon.
I loved the second week of March. It reminded me of all my good summers and springs from the past and that cold weather would soon be gone so that when my vehicle-less self needed to strap on my walking shoes to go somewhere, I wouldn’t have to wade through thigh high drifts of snow or face reddening winds that always managed to attack my ears and nose before any other body part making me appear to be an elephant looking version of Rudolf. Not to mention the oversized olive green coat, bulky charcoal gloves, and a pink trio scarf. I being the fashion nazi I am, would have sent anyone other than my self back into the house to correct such a horrible situation. My excuse, however, is only that I cant afford to match my accessories at the moment.
I sat down at my kitchen table gazing out the window on this mid march afternoon and watched the snow saunter ever so slowly down to the ground every once in a while. The houses that are walking distances away loomed over my lower level two-bedroom apartment. So perfect they are with the coordinating shudders to match the paint job and fancy window treatments, and properly placed French doors. They would be fun to decorate. My room looked like a sixteen year old lived in it. And my bathroom and kitchen had themes of their own. Maybe its been so long since I’ve decorated a room that made me revisit the familiar surroundings of high school like ideas. But it was homey, lived in, and comfortable. Most of it reflected me or my life at some point in time. My hallways and living room had bare white walls screaming for some color, decorations, or anything to make it feel homey and warm. A few sporadically placed items of furniture, a table and chairs, and a TV with no cable or hook up for a VCR was on a stand against the only wall with windows. A floor lamp illuminating the far corner where the glow of the dining room light didn’t quite reach.
It was ordinary. Nothing spectacular. But I guess that’s how my life is. Ordinary. I work full time with a day off here and there and the occasional outing with a friend. I go back to school in the fall and that’s about the extent of excitement in my life. When I lived in the south, at least I was always meeting new people and getting invited to do things. Here I can travel any direction and no farther than a half an hour away would find someone I’ve known my whole life.
I don’t know. I guess I miss the excitement I used to have in my life. The love for life I used to have and the spontaneity of it all. I miss having someone to share it with. Not just “dating” someone either; a true blue, over the fence, world-series kind of love. A relationship between two people who loved first and knew later.
I’m turning twenty this year and as young as that truly may sound I’ve grown ups a lot in my last three years. Yea how wonderful it is to be an adult. A boring, ordinary, losing her figure, has been whose life is going to-BZZZZZZZZZ.
Laundry’s done.