The Hole in My Knee and Other Fun Stories.

So, I crashed my bike...again. I have an awesometastic puncture wound in my knee and lots of awesomely large and in charge bruises to accompany that wound!

On a happier note, my nephew is pretty cool. He was pretending to drive my truck the other day. He does have a mini 'fro working here. I think this may have even been after his haircut...oy.

I Am Still Running - Jon Foreman

You remember me
before I learned to run.
At the kissing tree
before I learned my guns.
We were 17,
17 years young.

I am still running.
I am still running.

I had no idea the pain would be this strong.
I had no idea the fight would last this long.
In my darkest fears, the rights become the wrongs.

I am still running.
I am still running.
I am still running.
I am still running.

Build me a home inside your scars.
Build me a home inside your song.
Build me a home inside your open arms.
The only place I ever will belong.

I am still running.
I am still running.
I am still running.
I am still running.

Build me a home inside your scars.
Build me a home inside your song.
Build me a home inside your open arms.
The only place I ever will belong,
The only place I ever will belong,
Inside your open arms,
The only place I ever will belong.

That Friend...

That Friend
By J. Berryhill

Maybe you have “that friend”
who starts out each conversation
with a disclaimer.

They say,
"At the risk of being a
glib conversationalist
or letting my tongue slip
like a slinky, tumbling down
a flight of stairs,
I must keep this brief,
but bear in mind that I am
generally a talker."

And to yourself, you say,"Crap,"
but not before they continue.

"Have you ever noticed
how ridiculous
we look with ears
protruding out the sides
of our heads like fleshy
whirlpools? It seems
to me that one day
God was playing with Mr.
Potato Head when he
discovered that the ears
looked absurd affixed to the
top of the head.
And to Himself,
he chuckled.

Like I said, I must keep my
tongue on a leash or
it will scurry from my possession.

But I’ve also heard
legs be compared
to logs or stalks or
some other vegetational
remains. This comparison
leaves us with much
to be desired.
I think legs
look a lot like
popsicle sticks from those
twin popsicles that my mom
would demand me
to split in half and share
with my brother.
When divided, it turned
out so symmetrical.
It was the only thing we
could divide in half
perfectly without one
complaining that they
got jipped by the other.

Speaking of appendages,
we have to mention feet!
You know what they say
about women with big feet.
I am not sure I agree,
but then again,
my feet have been compared
to skis, boats and canoes.
Once, I told a kid
I had six toes.

I have been careful to treat your
time with care so you
do not retreat from here
deeming my speech
a waste of your life."

Glimpse of God, Bud, & Rules of the Asylum

Glimpse of God
Jess Berryhill

Each of us nestled in the grass with
the blades tickling our ears and
our heads cranked to the heavens
above to gain a glimpse of shooting
stars that burst light across the sky.

Seven girls—Jewish, Catholic, and Mormon,
each unknowingly getting a glance at God.

We dared not stare away from the sky,
afraid to miss the white blip bolting
through the blackened night.
Millions of other stars shined but none
rivaled the brilliance of the one
shooting star we saw that night.

In the northeast corner of the sky,
a speck ignited trailing off in a
perfect line and finally burning out.
The shouts of jubilation and awe echoed
off the nearby lake, rivaling the loon.

As I fell asleep that night, my mind
replayed my glimpse of God.

______________________

Bud


His bud was his Bud
More than I was.
He gave Apple Pucker
More kisses than he did to me.
He enjoyed the sound of Brandy's name
More than he did mine.

______________________


Rules of the Asylum

At eighteen and right after high school graduation,
I found myself hearing this long spiel of expectations.

“You are here because you have made a suicide attempt
and the rules will be enforced, none of which you are exempt.”

Rule Number One: Do not try to kill yourself, you will fail.
Be aware that we have not missed any minute detail.

Hollow plastic shower rods and double-paned windows are
a few of the measures to set safety at a high bar.

Rule Number Two: All Metal and shoestrings are forbidden.
You do a disservice to others to keep them hidden.

People here want to hurt themselves and this will give the means
to do acts where a staff member will have to intervene.

Rule Number Three: Interact in group therapy sessions.
The therapist will constantly write down their impressions.

Professionals review over your progress each day.
Your impending release requires doing things our way.

Rule Number Four: Always consume the food that you receive.
The nurse will mark a percentage down on how much you leave.

Eating regularly is crucial to your well-being.
Do this consistently, and your time here will be fleeting.

Rule Number Five: Forget trying to escape the psych wing.
Doors shut on the push of a button, crushing anything.”

The voice begins to fade into the background of my thoughts
And I realize I have traded one hell for another.

Jake

It's been nearly 6 years since my best pal, Jake, died. Yes, Jake was a dog, but he was my childhood companion.

We got Jake when I was in Kindergarten. My dad brought him home when my mom was away at food service conference. Dad got him from his work, where they randomly had dogs, and his main reason for choosing Jake was that, unlike the other dogs, Jake was standing on a stump when it was raining.

I wrote a story about Jake in 1st grade. It included incredibly crafted sentences like, "I play fetch with Jake." Skills, I know. Nonetheless, Jake was one the who would lay next to the Monopoly board as I pretended to play against him. He wasn't very good. We grew up and he grew old.

One of Jake's favorite things to do was ride in the car. When I got my license, I would take him with me any chance I got. We were pals.

I remember my mom calling me during the first semester of my freshman year to say that Jake was real sick and that he probably wasn't going to live much longer. I made a special trip home on a Friday night to see him. There he was on laying on a pillow in the kitchen. He could only lift his head a few inches and wag his tail when he saw me. I whispered in his ear, "Buddy, it's okay, you can go."

The next morning, my mom called me to tell me that Jake had died.

-Jess.

Shadows (David Crowder Band)

Life is full of light and shadow
O the joy and O the sorrow
O the sorrow

And yet will He bring
Dark to light
And yet will He bring
Day from night

When shadows fall on us
We will not fear
We will remember

When darkness falls on us
We will not fear
We will remember

When all seems lost
When we're thrown and we're tossed
We remember the cost
We rest in Him
Shadow of the cross

Normality

Herbert Hoover made this word up and it stuck...but it wasn't a word before then.

Should we fix something that is broken? Should we fix ourselves if we are broken? I question it merely because it would change who we are and possibly eliminate what makes us unique to achieve this normality. Maybe broken isn't bad...

Jess.