The Girl Who Broke Her Own Heart

I am not the same girl that started this blog.

It's been a long while.

After seven and a half months together, the clan left 801 Stanford Lane.  I moved into a small apartment attached to a cottage a few blocks down from the duplex.  Rylie moved into a loft fifteen minutes away.  Tom inherited a farmhouse in the next town over.  And Bryan...Bryan spends a good deal of time at my cottage.

Little Things, Like Snowflakes

This morning I awoke to the palest light floating in through cream curtains.  This is a distinct light, and it only ever means one thing:  snow.  I crack the blinds and I am greeted by a new world.  Everything is pristine, blanketed white.  This is the kind of morning I love best.  Tomorrow, or perhaps even later today, that snow will melt away to unveil an avalanche of mud.  But right now?  Right now the world is clean and shining.  Right now I can curl up in my bed with Pandora and my laptop, and ignore all the problems buried in the snowfall.

Later today I'll be meeting a few members of the clan for our standard coffee date at a locally owned cafe.  We do this every Saturday around 11.  We have a usual order and a usual table, and each week whichever of us are available show up to swap stories and sip on sweet, warm drinks.  We rarely leave our corner before 2.  Today it'll be Tom, Leanne and I.  We'll have enormous white mochas in thick, sturdy mugs, and whatever pastries look delicious, and we'll curl into our seats until we become part of the scenery.  I love this.  I love our group, and our town, our coffee shop.

Dear Ex Lover

Do you think of me?

When you hold her in your arms, do you remember the curve of my waist?  The scent of my hair?  When you kiss her, do you remember the way our lips fit perfectly?  Do you remember the freckles beneath my eyes, and the way you cupped your hands around my ears to warm them one night in the cold autumn rain?  When you come home to her, do you remember coming home to me?  Slipping in behind me while I worried over your cooking dinner, wrapping your arms around me, and pressing your lips to the back of my neck?