Palmtree Contemplations

        They say good things come to those who wait. For me, the wait was finally over when I received my own personal invitation to the wedding of Sir Nathan and Princess Adelaide. The greatest part was being invited not in my official capacity, as that of a scribe, but as an actual guest. It meant one whole day of not scratching away at parchment, one whole day of not asking question after question, and, most importantly, one whole day of speaking to whomever I wished to speak to at the wedding. Granted, the invitation did say The Scribe, though it hardly matters.           Some people want all the frivolous details of this wedding. For example, what was Princess Adelaide wearing? Well, she was wearing white, as brides often do. Interesting fact: the jewels on this gown were not diamonds, but recently shed dragon scales. If you want to know what style of dress it was, or the kind of bouquet she had, go ask a scribe who was there to actua...

Thump thump. Someone is knocking at my door. My housemate, Lisa, pokes her head into my room. "Hey Rachie," she says. "Do you want to do what that one girl did?" "Do what?" "You know," Lisa giggles. "Join Eharmony." One of my close friends recently joined the website, and has been talking to me about it. I've always thought online dating was a little crazy. And yet, it is a slow evening, nothing going on, nothing at all.... I pat the bed beside me. "Let's do it!" And so we do. We opt for the free version, and both post very nice pictures of ourselves. Then we tackle the questions. There are a lot. We constantly confer with one another about these queries. "What do people notice about me first?" I ask. "Your eyes, and your smile, and your quirky jokes," Lisa tells me. "What do people notice about me?" "Your hair, your beautiful smile, how tall you are, your singing voice, just...

"Nerds like us are allowed to be un-ironically enthusiastic about stuff… Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it.... When people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, ‘you are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness’.” -John Green Every Monday afternoon at 4 o'clock, I accompany the children's choir at Grace Episcopal Church. 18 months ago, the job didn't seem like something I would love that much. The rehearsals were often tedious, which is to be expected when you're working with 7-9 year olds. I sometimes sat at my keyboard for a solid 10 minutes without playing anything. Situations like the following occurred frequently:  Choir director : Now, we're going to work on those eight measures, all right? Yes, I see that hand. What is it?  1st child: My dog is going to have babies next week.  Choir direc...

Give me the gift of a long farewell, Words of love spoken on long, late nights, Over tea that burns when it goes down Swallowed as it is with the whiskey of hope. Give me the gift of a long farewell, Embrace me every golden twilight, Each new and frosted dawn, Let us keep the memory of your leaving near And then we shall save time for we will Say what we mean. Give me the gift of a long farewell, Where these moments together are pearls, And the string between them Our days spent apart.

You spilled some courage as you left, And I fell to my knees to lap it up Drop by golden drop. I felt it shimmer inside me As it sped to all the cold Fearful places in my bones. I hoped against experience, Wished despite all knowledge to the contrary That it would help, But it did not. For as time passed, the room grew not brighter but dark. The shadows sprouted talons And I found myself Shaking, shaking, shaking In spite of all the light filled courage I had swallowed. It came back up in golden tears, Smearing all the masks I wear to Make myself feel brave. Stealing courage, even from someone As fearless as you, Did nothing for me.

I sang for you tonight. And yes, I know you couldn't hear me, since you're miles away and probably not even thinking about me. Still, I sang every hymn that made me think of you, and I sang them as if you were in the room, listening. I could have prayed, maybe asked God one more time to give you peace and comfort and joy. I could have fallen to my knees and talked to our Father about how I don't understand why you have to go through all of this right now. The words, "This isn't fair" could have come out of my mouth the way they always do when I think about this darkness you are facing. Instead, I sang for you. I sang about God's faithfulness, His truth, and and His love. I sang about leaning on Him, about living day by day, and trusting Him "what e'er betide." I sang about the love that has no limit and the grace that has no measure. I sang as if you were right across from me, and every melody was a balm to ease your pain. It was re...

A friend of mine sent me a text about a project they were working on at the time. The text ended with the opening lines of this poem, and I responded with a rhyming couplet. Over the next few hours we proceeded to write back and forth, my friend supplying two lines each time while I responded with two more. The result was a one of a kind work of art, which I have entitled A Summer Poem. I'm trying to paint with every color, Write with every word, But some colors don't make the story better Some poems should go unheard. The paper blank the canvas white, The thought of what could be. Nothing's clear, yet the choice is mine To make from pain a tapestry.  Colors bloom, words collide, The dance begins to find its form, But while rainbows may last for a day Some hands cannot hold through a storm.   As the final form begins to shape Clouds peel back as if to say: Wind and time shall not destroy Strong convictions never sway.