Hope, Life and Growing Older

There are few places in this world that I really and truly love. Most of which are places I will probably never see again, because they’re thousands of miles away. Even so, I keep them in my heart, and I continually find myself dreaming of them, pretending I’m there.

You know those songs that you love so much, but you listen to them over and over and over again, and eventually you get so tired of them you never want to hear them again? I admit, I do that… except for two songs.

Viva la Vida by Coldplay and
Hope Vol. II by Apocalyptica.

I love those songs too much to constantly listen to them, because I never want to be tired of them.
I also have a place like that, only a few feet outside my house. I rarely go there, because I want it to remain special forever, just like those places in Ireland, Italy and so forth. I like for it to remain special, so that every time I sit there it’s like a whole new experience.

It’s my front porch swing.

Silly, I know. But it has so many memories. So many memories of when I was younger, where my brothers and I would try to flip each other on it, where my parents would swing me to sleep. But now I’m too old to sit on their laps, and my brothers are too busy with being Fire Fighters and Flying Planes… (sounds like they’re 4 or 5, but truth is… they’re 20 and 21)

My younger brother’s moving out sometime early next year, and these past few months, I feel like I’ve grown closer to him then I have ever been. Even closer than we were when he’d flip me on the swing.

That’s why I only visit my favorite place rarely, even if it is only a few feet away.

It’s too special to get tired of.

Tip: Never forget

Blowing With the Wind

...and her lithe form reached the summit of the hill but a moment after the sun was caught within the trap of twilight. Yet, the sky retained it's summer blue and the wind had no inclination of arresting. She stood there beneath the clouds in the midst of a lofty field of hay. All three objects together moved in synchronization. It was a symphony of quivering violins ordering their movement, not the wind....