(no subject)
today she's skipping church and puppets and going three hours south to visit river-bank schools (i mean school, school, singular) that glow warm in the sunlight with red-brick streets. she is jittery nervous because she feels like she'll be the only one there even though there will be many many children like her all there for the same reason, some that maybe she'll see again someday if they both make the same choices. she and her mama are taking apples and cranberry-raisin-nut granola-bars along the way, and she's grateful she isn't crampy anymore with beasts in her belly, and she's running late already, but she can't stop feeling shakey so she just has to tell you because she has nothing better to say.
(except four-ish days ago in the cold cold morning standing on the porch in the dark, seeing her breath and waiting for the bus, she looked at the stars and thought of a lonely sad girl who might one day be sick of waiting for neverland so she'd journey to her wishing-star and meet the people who live there, the boy or girl who hears all her wishes; and she thinks this might be her novel this time around.)
(except four-ish days ago in the cold cold morning standing on the porch in the dark, seeing her breath and waiting for the bus, she looked at the stars and thought of a lonely sad girl who might one day be sick of waiting for neverland so she'd journey to her wishing-star and meet the people who live there, the boy or girl who hears all her wishes; and she thinks this might be her novel this time around.)