Stormy Gold

This post has a little story behind it.  My dad is currently preparing for an interview to be a 5th grade teacher, and in an effort to find a suitable "lesson" to teach to his interviewers, he has been looking for inspiration in the world around him.  Well, the world is currently involved in the biggest international sports event there is: the Olympics.  By searching for a subject to teach on, my dad has inspired me by some of his ideas.  So, thanks in advance for this great prompt!

Prompt: How would it feel to be standing on the podium receiving a gold medal in the Olympics?

I take a step into the room and a roar greets me.  It is as deafening as thunder.  The bright lights of the room are blinding, like lightning, and I can imagine I’m in the middle of a storm.  That isn’t too hard to believe: just hours ago wasn’t I drenched to the bone while making a mad dash for the gold?  The pool isn’t so different from rainclouds.


I take the step up that will elevate me above the other two medalists.  As the strap is placed around my neck, I feel myself swelling with pride at what I have accomplished for my country.  I listen, although it is no longer thunder I hear but birdsong, the ballad of my nation.  The storm is over; I’ve made it.  The camera flashes glitter like raindrops on the landscape.  I take a deep breath, inhaling the air of victory.  It smells sweet like the earth after a rain.  I raise my arms, smile, and know that this golden sunlight is where I truly belong.

Barefoot

Some shoes tell a story: where you’ve been, the places you’ve seen, the streets you’ve walked.  They can tell of where you are, or where you’re going.  So much can be said for a single pair of shoes.  The ratty holes of the worn out boots that sit on daddy’s shelf.  They speak of hard times in the fields and long days at work.  The soft mauve slippers under mom’s desk.  They whisper the lullabies she sang when the storms blew loud outside.  The dusty baseball cleats in the hall closet.  That game brother almost won.  The dancing shoes hung in sister’s closet.  A routine much-practiced and rehearsed, only to be crushed by a sprained ankle.  So many shoes for so many stories.


I walk barefoot down the streets, in the halls, and through the crowds.  My story stays the same, for my shoes, they never change.  My feet are always with me, wherever I may go.  They come when I want no one else to follow.  They hold the stories that make my life, my personal repertoire.  Other’s shoes can tell their tales, every single pair.  For me, there’s only one shoe to wear, and my feet are always bare.

How Can a Snowflake Be One of Many

How is it
That a fish can remain motionless,
Suspended in the water?
Why do butterfly’s wings make
Less than a whisper
When they pass by your ear?
Why do bats fly out
When the sun goes down
And the moon comes out to play?
How do the flowers flaunt
Such a vibrant display,
Like a rainbow of hues and tones?
Why do pennies in a wishing well glint,
Shining in the sun,
Making them look like stars so bright?
How can a snowflake be one of many
But still remain unique?
Why are raindrops caught in a spider’s web
Such a dazzling scene?
Do ladybugs dance and beetles prance
To the tune of nature’s song?
Do the larks and sparrows mind the wind,
Or do they sing along?
Do the busy bees
Buzz along as they please
In the midst of pouring rain?
Does the fieldmouse twitter in perfect delight
When it finds a bit of grain?
What sound does the old tree make
When it’s too tired to utter a creak?
Which path is it we find instead
When we lose sight of the one we seek?
How can a palace be no more to some
Than a lowly little shack?
And when I look in the mirror,
Who will I see?
Who will be staring back?

Catching Fireflies

I don't really remember much.  All I have left are a few fleeting memories of that time.  I must have been only two or three, because my brother wasn't born yet.  At least, not from what I can tell.  It was night.  We were camping somewhere with a cabin that had two bunk beds in it.  My dad had brought his guitar and we were sitting around the campfire singing camp songs.  I think we may have been on a church trip or something, because I vaguely remember a few kids sitting there with us.  There may have been more.  That would make sense since my parents both were involved in youth ministry when I was young.

That's not the main thing I think about, though.  What I remember most strongly is a time right before we lit the fire, or right after it went out.  It was dark all around, but I could see the outlines of the trees surrounding me.  I had hold of my mom's hand.  Then, she pointed something out to me.  It was a small little light floating a few feet away.  I was mesmerized.  I had never seen anything like it.  What kind of magic was this?  I don't think I could understand what my mother said, but she brought out a jar and showed me how to capture the lights.  After we had a fair amount, we must have let them go because the next thing I know is I crawled into one of the bunks next to my mom.  She turned the lantern off and I fell asleep.

Past, Present, and Future

Where have the days gone?  It feels like just yesterday school was beginning and summer was behind me.  There was so much to do and to look forward to that I had no time to think about what had passed.  But now that the year is almost over, I stop and think, "What was I doing all this time?"  I know this year passed just the same as others, but I can't help getting the feeling that the older I get, the faster time flies.  I really don't know what to do with myself now that my controlled chaos is coming to a close.  It baffles me how we can live through a long period of time and not even pay attention to it.  It seems like we are always either looking back or jumping ahead, but we never really take the time to live in the present.  The future holds exciting things for me and I love to imagine it, but sometimes I have to remind myself to slow down and to live in the present.  I occasionally forget to savor the moments as they happen because in only a wisp of time they will be a memory and I will long for them just the same as I do others.  Then again, isn't most of life made up of memories?  Where would we be without the things we hold dear, without those things that are so special to us?  Oh, Time, how you always seem within our grasp but in truth you are constantly slipping away into the future faster than we can blink.

May the 4th be with you

In honor of Star Wars day, here's a little video that I found on Facebook one day.  I feel that because it is May 4th and because cellos just rock that I should share this.  I am also very fond of the Star Wars music, so this appeals to my better nature.  For those who read my Facebook, my apologies.  This will be the third Star Wars related item that I have mentioned today, but since it is a deserving cause, I might as well show my applause.  Just wait until Hobbit Day on September 22...

School

The longer I live in this life
The stranger I see things
In fact, it reminds me a lot
Of fish
We are nothing but fish here,
Confined in this tank
Following a leader,
Stuck in the current
We get swept along by
The actions of the rest
No one wanting to be the first
To break free
Everyone waiting for the leader
But the leader acts on what
The rest of the pack does
So you see, they're caught
In an endless cycle
Just like us,
Who so resemble fish in nature
After all, why do you think
We call them a school?