Everyone has a Jack Dawson
When I was fifteen I watched Titanic for the first time We had it on a VHS tape. Well, technically two VHS tapes because that is how it was when a film was over two hours long. My friend's kept nudging me to watch "even if it is just for Leo" but I put it off because I knew it was long and sad. And in my teenaged brain, that meant boring. But when a tragic case of strep throat kicked me down for over a week, with a house to myself and antibiotic-induced boredom, I thought I would finally see what the fuss was about.
What to Know About Your Cup of Joe
I never thought I could like coffee. I always thought it was bitter black bean water that stained teeth and clothes. My parents don’t even drink coffee. Growing up we had one small container of coffee grinds that was hidden on the top shelf in the pantry - at the very back, of course. We would bring it out only a few times a year when we had a full house of guests during the holidays. We would clean out a dusty coffee maker that my parents got as a wedding gift and serve our guests three-year-old stale coffee in a rusting pot. I don't know how they could stomach it, or even worse, ask for a second cup.
A Key with Four Sides
“Nora?” A slim brunette on a navy velvet sofa swiftly tilted her neck to the direction of the man’s voice. “What did you say? Sorry, I’m a bit,” she took a deep breath, blinking her pale eyes, “nervous.”
I have a measuring tape A gift from my mother Packing my childhood room into four boxes And the suitcase I bought for my year abroad
A Tease of a Dimple
A tease of a dimple. I think that was my favorite thing on his face. It was hidden gently under his left cheek and would appear only with erupting laughter or a private smirk that he only spent on me. Most women would look at him and swoon over his dark hair, like the color of the coffee stains on his blue jeans, and how it effortlessly spilled across his forehead. Or maybe those diamond eyes and lashes with such length, that they could start a wind storm. Or those lips, although they were thin, would flirt and curl into hundreds of tempting smiles that could convince anyone to hypnotically lean in, desiring his kiss.
Dear Vagina, Today I watched the movie Fried Green Tomatoes for the 100th time. I could perfectly recite that film from beginning to end and can imitate Kathy Bates as she jumps on the trampoline telling her husband to "make his own damn dinner." I know this isn't a common repeatrepeatrepeat type of film in pop culture, but I watched it religiously with my girlfriends throughout middle school and high school and it is now a nostalgic necessity.
Dear Dad, One of my favorite memories with you is one that makes me melancholy. When I was a child, sometimes I would get too tired to drag my heavy feet to the top bunk after Twinkle Twinkle Little Star accompanied my teeth brushing. I would accidentally fall asleep on the couch and when mom would gently knock on my door in the morning to wake me, I would magically be tucked in my bed, with my teddy bear in my hand. At first, I didn’t realize how this happened. Did I walk back to my bed but was too tired to remember? Did I just dream I fell asleep on the couch? How could I fall asleep in one place and wake up in another with no memory of getting there? So my curious, juvenile brain decided to conduct an experiment in order to solve the mystery of the couch to bed portal.
Maybe They had it Right All Along
No one despises the mundane simplicity of a small town more than a wide-eyed teenager. The moment I held that rusty 1999 dodge neon key insured in my own name, I knew I would escape the moment I could. Wearing second-hand gowns, principal Terry adjusted my tassel from east to west while my packed car was within eyesight, enabling me to drive away from that three stoplight town the instance my yearbook held every classmates name.