Category: getaway

Never Say Never… Unless

Never forget what others have done for you in the past. Even if you’ve moved on, or they’ve moved on from you, never forget their smile.

Never forget the sweetness in their voice when you saw them with their guards all the way down. Never forget that surprised look in their eyes when they realized something they said hurt you. Never forget that they had never meant to hurt you. Never forget they too are human and flawed and recklessly beautiful.

Never forget that somewhere along the line of your relationship they wanted you to rise, to succeed, to just be happy. Even if only for a moment, a moment can last an eternity. Never forget; if they could feel hate, surely they can feel love.

Never forget when they stood by your side. Whether it was a walk through the park, or a walk to visit you in prison. Never forget that their footsteps can echo just like yours.

Never forget that they were young, reckless, and inexperienced. Never forget that they aren’t getting any younger and one day they will return from where they came. Never forget the last sentiments you exchanged.

Never forget that no matter how much you think they despise you, the right words could make them admire you.

And while you’re at it… you should probably forget that idiotic word: Never.

Xoxox

Lindsay Reva

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Art of a Life

Oh how much I love…
Walking down the street as if no one can see me,
Driving in my car, pretending
That nothing in the world matters
Looking out the window
Wondering when everything will be mine
But in the meantime, I sit back and enjoy the ride
Cause I love this life
Savage
Brilliant
Beautifully
Stained
Art of a Life
To some it’s all a joke, but I have felt too much pain
To let it go to waste
So I sit back and enjoy the ride
Work my hardest
Love till my heart bleeds
Open my arms until my back is cut and bruised from the bastards
But I’ll eventually relax and enjoy the ride
After the work is all done, after I’ve gone past the farthest yard
Work
Play
Repeat
Try not to break
And in-between it all I will sit back and try to relax
Oh how much I love…
The days when I wake up feeling beautiful
When I go to sleep feeling peaceful
And in-between it all, try not to remember
Try not to trip and fall
One step at a time, one pair of lips
Plum bruised chapstick
God, how much I love
My life
Family
Food
Touch
Breath
Freedom, to be anywhere, everywhere, and nowhere
I wonder if they know…
How much I love them
You
Him
Her
Them
I love them all
Every single one of you
But in the meantime, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the ride
One single heartbeat at a time
Oh if only you could feel how much I love.
xoxox
Lindsay Reva
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Highway 395

Sitting in the car with her feet propped up against the backrest of the chair directly in front of her, she stared out the window to the fields and skies that raced by. The trees were magnificent. Electric flashes of orange at their tops, thickly molded and knobbed bottoms.  The mountains were monsters who kissed the clouds. Sienna orange swam past with streams of white, then blue, followed by the warmest brown that only comes with nature sans Mankind. She smiled at the scene remembering when she was younger; how the great expanse of American Land use to make her feel small. Now it just made her feel pure. She wanted more and so she closed her eyes. Her belief did the rest.

As slow as possible her eyelashes bloomed into open eyes and she felt the wind coming at her like a cold storm. Chills clenched her entire body.  A smile lit her face that would have been envied even by the Cherubs in Heaven. She rose. Higher and higher, unbelievably heights until she flew up into the white masses that littered the vast blue. She spun and twirled, laughing as if she were still twelve and unafraid of all consequences. She did not fall or sink. Still, she rose.

Her laugh could be heard all throughout the lands if only people were around. She gave a final burst and felt the energy consume her whole, becoming nothing but light, energy, velocity. If she wanted to she could have taken her momentum and power and balled it up into a magnum fire, throwing it down to raze the lands below. She could have looked to the east or west and cut the mountains in quarters with the point of a finger. Her soft almond eyes could have desecrated and formed craters. But she was not evil. With her energy, she only smiled more and released slowly until she stopped in a field of Mackarel clouds lazily in the sky, stretching; full and complete.

How lucky I am to be alive, she whispered into the thin air.

She sank. Faster and faster. Right before she touched the valley of weeds and grass she pulled her self up and soared into a speed that went passed Mach. Up and down throughout the mountains listening to their pains and flaws. Her fingers lightly brushed against the tips of grains. Her feet ran swiftly over white gushing rivers and fluorescently green tepid streams. She spun in the sunlight like an angel who had no control except to create goodness.

Wild pumped in and out of her heart and when she took one deep breath she could hear the way the world worked and how one thing needed the other and the other needed another. Everything sank into her mind like roots deep in a thousand-year-old soil. Her eyes never closed, and her senses never ignored their true purpose. She inhales, she believed, and she felt.

Up and up like the Queen of the Clouds, she rose one last time and closed her eyes forcefully knowing she was about to do what she regretted every time. I must go back…and be like them.

The song playing on the radio in her mothers’ white van was Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones. She opened her eyes as if she were bored and looked to her right again out the window at the landscape that passed by. Mountains dipped and rose, valleys continued forever, rivers danced, clouds changed, and she sat in her seat remembering how wonderful it felt when you were truly free.

xoxox

Lindsay Reva

 

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Warm Whiskey

She could always see the light when she looked into their eyes.

Other people called them demons, monsters, killers, murderers. But she refused to ignore how kind they could be when she handed them their food tray. She could not look away when they smiled with appreciation back at her as if on their tray, there lay not slop from the prison kitchen, but instead cups of miracles and bowls filled with rainbows.

She had worked as a prison officer for 21 years. Looking back on the time she had spent, she remembered the first time she was attacked. He was old and off his meds. Still, she couldn’t blame him. How would you feel if you received a letter in the mail stating that his only child was found dead in the alley, with teeth marks from rats? She couldn’t. she also remembered the time she fell in love with an inmate. He had so much light in his eyes, each time he looked at her, she had to look away and squint as if hiding from the rays of the sun. Of course, she never shared her feelings with any of the inmates. No one would understand, especially not them.

Her job was to oversee and sometimes assist in all inmate activity. Most of the other officers had hardened with time, but not her. She couldn’t decide if that made her stronger or weaker. The longer she was there, the more she understood their miseries. When they complained, every single word entered her heart and escaped in a silent prayer.

That’s why she couldn’t leave her job which other people despised and felt sure was the cause of her graying hair. No, she could not leave the prison. Despite the hate and cruelty that some of the inmates felt, she understood that there was always something in each of them, that was fighting to be good. Because of that, she never gave up on them. They cursed, they riled, they were the unbelievers. Yet despite the circumstance, they too had hope that one day something miraculous would happen and the doors would open up and present them with the glorious gift of freedom. A freedom that all freemen understand not.

They were never going to leave.

And they were never going to lose their hope.

Nor will I.

xoxox

Lindsay Reva

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Head High, Soldier!

If you want something, go get it! Nothing in life is free!!! But you’ve heard all this mumbo jumbo before. Yet I repeat for the people who don’t realize how simple it is to invest in the path which you want your life to follow; The path which would bring you more happiness. Why depend on luck? That’s not even an option for me since I might be the most unlucky as hell person to roam the earth. There is chance, but even that doesn’t last forever. Go ask any high roller. Work for what you believe in and always believe in yourself. Head High, Soldier! Stop mopping around, unwrap your head from all that negativity and pessimism, and throw life into your future, one breath at a time. If you want more work, then you better be someone people want to work with. Not willing to change yourself? By God, I hope you have brilliance and brains… No matter, Head High, Soldier. Hit those notes, dash that work, reach the heights, live the life.

Sit on your arse, fine. But the fruits of your actions will cause your destiny to dry up like the remains of a cracked lake. You look into the vast bed of nothing, seeing the weeds and wonder how something so vast could all of a sudden shrivel up like the skin of an ancient being. No rain, love. No action. No change. Don’t even act surprised when you see your dreams walk away on shaky twig legs, barely able to make it out of the room before they snap into a cloud of ruins. You could try to run and salvage, but if you let them take those first few steps away from you, something tells me you’re already too far to catch up. The sloth on the sly holds you in its grip. Principles baby.

Isaac Newton’s laws of motion were first set down in his Principia Mathematica Philosophiae Naturalis in 1687. The first law states that an object will stay at rest or move with a constant velocity, unless it is acted upon by an external force.
The second law is the one that tells you how to calculate the value of a force. Force (measured in Newtons) is one of the fundamental physical properties of a system and comes in many forms. You might feel it as a push or pull (a mechanical force), while it is the value of your weight (the gravitational force of the Earth pulling on you) and can be seen in the repulsion or attraction of magnets or electric charges (electromagnetic force). A force might be the result of any number of fundamental physical interactions between bits of matter but Newton’s second law allows you to work out how a force, when it is present, will affect the motion of an object.

Where’s your force? Chaos and nothingness. If you want to create something already envisioned in your mind; the job that would make your life financially easier, making your significant other happier, taking that vacation to paradise (the list can go on and on), everything will take some effort on your behalf. EFFORT. It doesn’t take a brain scientist to figure that much out. But the hardest part for human beings (in my opinion) is how much do you really want it? Where’s your force soldier? That is the ultimate divider. Do you feel a pit in your stomach when you think of your dreams because you haven’t yet reached them? Do you break out in a cold sweat when you’re so close to touching them, palms clammy as hell? Does the image of your destiny stay within your vision day and night?

I do/it does. And it pains me. But it makes me stronger in the sense that I not only know what I want in life but I can feel it. I sleep so little and I’m fine with that because my soul won’t rest until I get the thing I want in life. If I fail? Fine. So be it! But I’ll be DAMNED if I fail because I half-assed this thing called life.

Head HIGH, Soldier!! You’ve got dreams to pursue. You’ve got your own wishes to grant. Feel like taking a nap? Okay pussycat, when you’re done don’t forget that the work you left behind, just like my boy Newton said, is either collecting a layer of dust or has converted to untameable chaos. Choose your weapon.

I choose fire.

xoxox

Lindsay Reva

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Bow & I Shall Bow Back

First I must tell you that I absolutely ADDOOOORRRREEEEE you. Duh.

Second: You will never be at a loss for being too respectful or too kind.

Seriously, guys do you think a woman would slap you for opening the door for her? If she did, where the hell did you find her? In an Ubercarpool?! Ladies is it painful to say the magic words ” Thank you”. No baby, it’s the opposite. You say thank you, and they remember because thankfulness is sweet. What’s the opposite of sweet? Sour. YUK!.  LAWWDD, go ahead and run amok in ignorance of humanity and compassion, but what does that say about your character? What does that say about your mama? What does that say to the person who just bent over backward to help you with something they could have easily side-stepped from? It says a lot. Fathoms in the Mariana Trench, a lot. That’s a S*#% load. 

You lose nothing from being generous, polite, and respectful. But it doesn’t go both ways. I personally take rudeness as a marked flaw. That’s because I’m constantly evaluating my own actions. Did I forget to say thank you to Angelea for helping me remember why I deserve better? Did I forget to say thank you to my mother for being the sweetest soul God could have given me? There are so many people who help me. So many people who have offered me their heart on a platter. The heaviness of that realization makes me feel all mushy inside. Not like mash potatoes mushy (nahhhh) , more like pretty pink jello mushy after your spoon has had its way with it (ART!).

But also, being good to other human beings makes them happy. When someone is polite to me I want to squeeze them (can you imagine if my emotions had no filters? trouble!) I once remarked to a man, ” Would it hurt you to be a little more polite to me?” His response: GIRRLLLLLL, it’s 2018! You out here trying to be an independent woman, and all of a sudden you want me to open doors and take you on long walks in the park. When the hell did I say I was an independent woman (which I am, suckaa)? And what the hell does that have to do with walks in the park? I think walks in the park are nice, it’s true. But that’s irrelevant to how I would like to be treated kindly, generously, and in a respect that you should want in return. Can you imagine if everyone just ignored everyone? No hugs, no parting kisses, no remorse. No, ” Damn that was nice as hell, you just made my day” Life would be rough.

Onooo, couldn’t live in a world like that. HELLS no.

It all started when I was a child. I went to visit an elderly woman at the hospital. I was maybe 6 or 7 years old. There was a family next to me and as they greeted each other a boy about my age went up to his aging grandmother and bowed. Then he hugged her. I stared at him the whole time like he was an alien who had taken over the body of a blond-haired boy with freckles and blue eyes. Weirdo. But I was in awe of the weirdo. At that young age, I saw his respect for his elders and I also saw the respect the elders had for him. He went from weirdo to the respectable respected. I have no idea who the kid was but I do wonder what he might be doing nowadays… Maybe he became spiderman? Or maybe he’s in prison….Nahhhhh! He’s probably all about them spidey senses. Watch your back, villains!

You could lose a lot for being ungrateful, rude, and a complete prick. Friendships and family have been torn apart because graciousness was left behind in the dust like a animals skeleton which makes you wonder, how did this happen? We don’t know how it happened. We just know one day the streets were clean and today… Someone ran over a dog and didn’t even bother to pick it up.

Giving thanks takes some effort. But so does waking up in the morning, brushing your teeth, putting your makeup on, bla bla bla. All that work. Would it be so much EXTRA to add a dash of courtesy to your life? If it does, then by God you must be as busy as Trump himself.

Rude ones, keep away. I’m in this life for the goodness.

xoxox

Lindsay Reva

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Motivation, wherefore art thou?

I searched and still, I found none. Motivation, Motivation my darling, where the hell have you gone?

For hours I drove aimlessly until I found myself in a nameless town, full of faceless people. Zombie-mode to the 1000th degree. No one knew me and even if they did they probably wouldn’t recognize my face with that lost-for-all-eternity look smeared all over. Tired from the stop and go traffic I pulled into the nearest parking lot. On the left was an eggshell white church, on the right sat a liquor store. I chose the path least sinister (okay, let’s be honest I went to the liquor store first to grab a bottle of Coconut water).

Nothing mattered, spiritually I was lost and I could feel the streams of indecisiveness running over every inch of my body. Work held no interest for me. That was saying a lot since work had the same bearings to my life as chocolate to my tastebuds; A necessity. But on this day of efforts for trying to make a better life,  I ran right into the wall of I Don’t Give A Damn ( I swear Officer, it came out of nowhere).  My core beliefs which had once stood straight like a rose reaching for sunlight suddenly bent from too much weight and wind. The realization alone wilted me in sadness. All I had in my visions were wants of escape and getaway to exotic lands where I knew no one and could never be found. My imagination drift away to No Mans Land. Is that how I ended up in this nameless town?My soul must have dragged me here and how easily I had given in. It made me feel weak, so unlike the savaged believer that I had built myself up to be. Lindsay McNicol meet Lindsay McCoward (The goddess in me shrinks back as I type these words). YUK!

What was this? Loneliness…Naaaaaaaaa. I’ve been solitary for too long to care about that. Had someone planted a seed of doubt way back when and only now the roots were strong and thick like Python snakes ready to attack? Or was this my past-self catching up to my present self (someone I hoped I would never see again)? Hatred and Love, Ignorance and Experience meeting in a face-off of who should rule body. You see, it’s simple; I had been born a damn fool. Aren’t most of us? That’s why schools exist and babies don’t walk out of the womb with PhDs. That’s why we teach our children to brush their teeth, brush their hair, learn to ride a bike, bla bla bla. Because it’s not something we were born to do but learned to do. The only problem with me was that I hated learning and closed my mind off to the world because I had ZERO belief in myself. Too shy, too ugly, too modest, too wrong, too much of everything that amounts to NOTHING. These words would float in and out of my mind everytime an idea came to fruition, and words had always been the pedestal holding up my endeavors. They could either stand an inch from the ground or higher than the empire state building, way way way past the wisp of clouds in the sky, past the stars, never coming in contact with black holes. It took me ions to figure that one out. So slowly but surely like the lonesome ant who carries a ginormous leaf to God only knows where, I slung momentous words over my shoulder to my long awaited kingdom. The Bible, self-help, world travel, the greatest minds man had created were all at my disposal between pages. All I had to do was open my eyes, try not to get papercuts( I failed) and follow them. An EPIC awakening soul search soon began. At least that was a pinch of how I felt when I brushed against Hemmingway, sipped tea with Thoreau, laughed with Loti, argued with Austen, walked with Bronte, Traveled with Swift, conversed with Kafka, and unfathomably more likeminded and nothing of the like minds authors. As I read the lives and characters of others, symbols and scripts stuck to my spirit like superglue only this time I had the power to cut off the bad ones. The key to my prison of ignorance was simple…

WORDS. Thoughout that pilgrimage of paperbacks, I came across a sentence so simple and astounding I couldn’t forget it even if I tried. Those words have gone through my mind every day for the last 5 years. To this day they tire me not. If I ever forget it, I’ll put money down that it’ll eventually make it’s way back like a lost cat that you had given up on and yet has never given up on you and your Chicken Of The Sea beastings.

” I will greet this day with love in my heart.”

Those lovely words I had read in a book by Og Mandino called ” The Greatest Salesman in the World.”  Such a simple quote yet it had jumped out from the faded pages and latched on to me so that it wasn’t just a way to start the day but a promise, a command to never, ever give up to the despairs and tragedy’s that yesterday shucked at you. With these words repeating inside my membrane daily, I would accept that tomorrow had something better to offer and yesterday ‘s failures had to be passed up like bones left out for the savages. Yet, sometimes it can be so easy to fall into that trap that leads downwards to the bottom of the pit. How many people look up at a Grey sky and complain about rain clouds or how much nicer it would have been if the sun had shone a little brighter? Look farther into the clouds. Can you not see mansions and towers in shades as lovely as the faded eyes of an old woman or the same subtle faintness of a white feather that feels so lovely when brushed against the skin by your hearts Beloved? Can you not imagine what it would be like if you were surrounded by lightness and wisp so close to the sun?  I commanded myself to greet each day, each moment with love. Suddenly there existed no dull grey skies and I had transformed into the Pure of Mind, Pure of Heart. This wasn’t just true for what my eyes saw either, but also how I portrayed people. I had to love my enemies just as I had loved my Bestfriend (and I love her like Kanye loves Kanye!!). When that came into play, I also saw a difference in my life. Better things started to appear like magic. My enemies, I had judged wrongly because now I could see the light in their eyes. I don’t know what kind of God you have, but mine would have winked back at me with approval. But it sure didn’t happen overnight. Repeat and after the millionth repetition, start over.

Love Love Love. Thankful Thankful Thankful.
So now I sit in an empty church alone and I can feel the coolness of the atmosphere settling on my pretty bones. Tears run down my face because of the doubt I feel shamed for and the struggle that my mind drags me through all because I had forgotten one simple acceptance: To stop thinking about how much better life could be and to greet this day with love in my heart. I finally remembered that when I looked at Mother Mary’s chiseled wooden face. It reminded me of someone. Someone who I had met in a terrible situation and had hated immediately because of their coldness. But that was before…Before I had turned all my enemies into my family. I had to try and try again yet eventually I could love her and when I looked up at Mother Mary’s soft eyes and heart shaped face I saw those similar features. The words hit me like the tail of a stingray and my ignorance and worthlessness drained of my blood. I left my tears on the churches dark-stained wooden floors and got back into my car like a drifter or the wind.

Why was I searching for motivation when I had everything I ever needed in life right there in the depths of my being. Brilliance nodded her beautiful head back at me.

I will greet this day with love in my heart.

I write this message for anyone else who might be fighting their demons as I do or needs some sense of direction. Motivation. Words. Purpose. Whatever it is you need, just know that you probably had it in your soul the entire time. It’s just a matter of time before you find it and if you’re like me who’s willing to go look for it; Keep your eyes on the hills of goodness.

And for Gods Sake, read a book!

Xoxox

Lindsay Reva

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A Tourist In My Own Town

wan·der·lust

ˈwändərˌləst/
noun
  1. A strong desire to travel.

Ever get the urge to pack up all your shit and head for the hills? Well, let me tell you for me it’s not an urge, it’s REAL. But giving in to all my urges was my past life. I’m trying out this new thing called Adult. Sort of… I mean does my obsession with sparkles and never being able to call my mommy, “Mom” make me a child forever? If so, I succumb to it. But this urge to suddenly flee sometimes hit me in full force and to get away without getting away I play the game of tourist for the day. Luckily I live in San Diego, Killer California where loveliness smiles back at you in every direction whether it’s the beach-babe infested coast, the sin city, the photo op obsessed deserts, or even the Burbs that are turning trendy as hellfire. I don’t know what I would do if I lived in a place like Arkansas or Idaho…Join a book club, get fancy for Denny’s night? No, lets not even go there. Instead, let’s go to Balboa Park where every crevasse holds a special kiss to our senses.

 

Roaming around this 1,200-acre urban cultural park I can get lost for hours. It’s madness how many randomly placed benches there are. Whose job was it to find homes for these rump sanctuaries? And did they know that people like me would go there to forget the world? Some are hidden and some are out in the open. You can tell a lot about a person by which bench they choose. Mine always overlooks the wilderness trench with deeply rooted trees that make me contemplate my own roots and how far my branches will reach. Why is it that when I feel dark my bench always seems completely shaded and obscured but when I’m as light as air the sunlight swallows me whole? It knows…

The museums are a little too much for me. When I look at art I look for meaning and in that contemplation, my own blue print comes into view which gets in the way of why I went to Balboa in the first place; to get away. So, I keep it pushing past the Museum of Man, past MOPA, and past the statues that look half monster/ half beautiful being. I wander to the fountains and make my way over the bridge taking my time between the rose gardens. Have you ever seen a rose so beautiful that you want to pluck a petal off and taste it? Don’t. Nothing ever tastes as good as it looks (and I might know from experience that it taste rather bitter). That’s beyond the point.

It was bliss to wonder in the kingdom of roses with the sun warming me from the outside where my sunlight inside did no good. In my Steve Madden bag, my phone was ringing. Text message. Facebook alert. Instagram notification. Email. Email. Email. At that moment the only person I would have answered was God, and I highly doubt he would have sent me a Snap. I sat on the grass that overlooked green canyons and warm valleys blocking out everything that had been pulling on my attention for the past week. I inhaled a deep breath that smelt like earth, nature before man. Suddenly something hit me like lightning striking on a clear blue day and in my surprise, I let go. Sitting there held down by gravity and the heavy chains of my responsibilities I could feel my other self’s wings expand as I  flew above the rose bushes, above the tourist taking pictures, FREE FREE FREE. Life was good when you remembered it. Life was even better when you could forget about it. Free at last. 

Slowly I rose brushing the blades of grass off my dark faded jeans and made my way back over the bridge where I had come. I walked past the other tourist who looked fascinated and lost at the same time. What did my face look like? Maybe they could see the secrets that shone in my eyes… Or maybe I just looked like another tourist.

I was searching for something I had lost… But what are you suppose to do when you have no idea what it is you lost? Or if you know what you lost, but it was never really yours in the first place…

Keep moving forward.

So on I stumbled, walking past the pond and looking at the red, white, and brilliantly spotted orange fishes that cost a fortune. Koi meant Love and Eternity in Japanese. I wondered if the Koi fish could feel as much love as human beings did in their imprisoned waters. What about the pains? Suddenly I felt sorry for the Koi’s who swam in and out of my reflection. On and on and on, I only traveled forward.

Past the Old Globe and under arches and Palm trees, past the Japanese Friendship garden whose Cherry Blossoms one day will bloom like cotton candy, stopping briefly before the magnificent Organ Pavillion constructed by the Famous Architect Harrison Albright which first opened on December 31, 1914. Whenever I look at this monument I think of the time that I saw it lit up at night and a public concert was underway. The Organs rang to the masses and I stared at the lights illuminating the faces of so many strangers who had all been brought together because of the efforts of one small human being sitting at the center of the Pavillion playing notes on a bench that her soul knew better than anyone; The Organist at the seat of her instrument.

But I quickly blinked away the memories before I remembered too much and walked to a path which might have been the darkest part of the park just because of all the trees that swayed overhead. The bridge that led me to my salvation was old and wooden just the way it should have been. I was too tired for shiny newness. I didn’t follow the path down the stairs where a couple was having a violent makeout session. Instead I made a spilt for a dirt path that was less used and deeper into the cliff side. No one was there. On my bench… They wouldn’t dare. I sat down and the muck of life fell off me like a dirty and overused cloak. I took my Micheal Kors black patent pumps off and sat Indian style. The Concrete below me was cold and the wind had picked up making my hair brush back and forth from my neck to my cheek. People below me snapped away for pictures that would flood their social media accounts and in their excitement, they were oblivious to me. I closed my eyes and listened to the wind, smiling that no one could see me and yet everyone could look as I sat in my solitude.

As the minutes passed and the lovers took their last pictures I swallowed one last glimpse of everything surrounding me. I was seeing a mess of a jungle in the middle of stunning San Diego and it could have been the very replica of my heart. But that’s okay… I had gotten away and to run away from your troubles is fine, just don’t ignore that urge to take one last glimpse back as you walk away forever. Today I played the part of tourist in my own city, my sanctuary. Nothing calms me more than silence. Nothing can make me feel better than the wind carressing me. Nothing can make me feel more at home than when I’ve been gone. I put my pumps back on and neatly brushed back the hairs that had come loose.

I traced a tiny heart on my bench with my manicured finger as if it was a sealed promise that I would be back. In the meantime, let’s hope my place remains cool. The heat of my life is going to need it. When that day comes, maybe I’ll wear a fedora to blend in better with the tourist. Did I find answers? No. Did I find strength? I never lost it I just simply needed to get away.

xoxox

Lindsay

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