(100) things that make me happy

1- iced caramel macchiatos 2- country music on the turnpike 3- knowing when to be still and watch the earth move around you 4- getting enough sleep 5- having a favorite cup at your best friend's house 6- surprising people you care about 7- chinese food on a rainy day 8- a clean room and a made bed 9- making to do lists and crossing off every item 10- the excitement of the first few days of a new season  11- yale, oklahoma 12- being able to take your own advice 13- chasing the moon 14- people watching at the airport on a friday evening 15- using a new pen 16- getting a package in the mail 17- weekends with austin 18- when someone tells me to go look at the moon 19- elvis presey 20- pockets 21- watching movies during the day 22- used book stores 23- when people tell me i look like wendy from peter pan 24- forgiveness 25- every square inch of oklahoma 26- thursday days that arent actually a thursday 27- catching both 7:17s in a day 28- the riverside bridge 29- football season 30- sushi dates 31- couch tower at OU 32- finishing a journal 33- remembering my dreams 34- the indescribable feeling that comes after writing 35- the south 36- monograms 37- boys in cowboy boots (my boy in cowboy boots) 38- the fact that no matter how many times i walk in the door, my puppy will always act like its the first time she's seen me in years 39- girl scout cookies 40- waking up with the sun 41- may 42- listening to people talk about their joys instead of complaining 43- walking into a place and being asked if i want "the usual" 44- reading the trivia cards at victorias pasta shop with austin and stealing our favorite one at the end of the meal 45- the perfect song for an afternoon drive 46- pulling into norman after spending a weekend in tulsa or stillwater 47- pei wei dates with lexie and cassidy 48- antique stores on a sunny day 49- spending the day with austin in tulsa 50- walking into the couch RSA room and everyone being happy to see you 51- unavoidable sunshine bringing unending joy 52- atlas hands by benjamin francis leftwich 53- christmas lights in a dark room with the window open on a cloudy day 54- having the be-in-my-wedding-one-day kind of sisterhood 55- bread bowl tuesday 56- a determination to never forget how to be eighteen 57- opportunities to grow and learn with people you care about 58- glitter 59- holding hands with my sister 60- wearing other people's clothes 61- creme brulee 62- when people tell me im just like my mother 63- ee cummings 64- burts bees chapstick 65- how the eyes of a portrait will always follow you 66- stealing traffic cones 67- saved by the bell reruns 68-brushing my teeth 69- the big moon illusion (a magic i will always believe in) 70- small world moments 71- visiting my friends at work 72- other people's handwriting 73- pets with human names 74- writing and underlining in books 75- waking up on weekdays early enough to text my sister before she goes to school 76- when people act like their birth month 77- midnight yell during dead week and finals week with my friends outside Wagner hall 78- when my puppy sounds like a kitten 79- visiting Ryan and Erik while they broadcast ERB in the Union 80- thanksgiving (the holiday and the state of being) 81- the word "still" 82- when courtney tweets about me being her best friend 83- climbing through lexie's window 84- day moons 85- colors that can only be found in someone's eyes 86- how everyone's house has its own smell 87- when my dad texts me using ":-)" 88- peanut butter pie in my kitchen with my family and grandparents 89- catherine's hugs 90- sunflowers 91- meeting new people and making new friends 92- driving down riverside to Dark Blue by Jack's Mannequin 93- my lucky day of every month (the 17th) 94- getting the right answer to a math problem 95- forgetting to bring my journal on a busy day and texting people my observations and thoughts and entries instead 96- mason jars 97- the old russian lady that works for OU housing and always tells me to have a good day 98- sitting in my kitchen having talks with my parents and austin after dinner 99- sunday night family dinners with the couch clique 100- being alive

surrender-ology

i'd run in the rain and ruin my shoes to get caught in the downpour with you-- i'd forget my umbrella and let down my hair and stand too close to the street so the cars would race by, covering me in the murky waters from the puddles on the corner if only you'd stand with me on the sidewalk-- i'd plant my feet and fix my eyes on the cloud-ocean sky in search of the sun's hiding place, look over to see the child-like reverence in your gaze and count the raindrops in your eyelashes--i'd stop, breathe, and watch the boy and the girl behind the white fence dance as they are showered with second chances and tomorrows coming from the clouds-- to dance in the rain is revelry, to be still in the rain is reverie.

theres a 'you' shaped hole in my heart-- that's not to say that, without you, i cannot exist, but that i was made to spend my days filled with love for all that you are

depth over distance

the kind of day-spring sun-flower rain-drop depth that trumps all the knowledge and the questions and the sure things, the depth that shows on a tuesday in the first quarter of the new year that's sure to be the best of your life. the kind of depth that makes you wonder how and why and if its really fair to be here and now despite the long and twisted, uncharted path you took to get to this very moment. the depth that grows a home of its own in your days and your nights, the depth that cannot be turned off at the flip of a switch or the drop of a hat or the doubt of an exhausted, inspired soul.
the kind of night-swim dusk-set empty-hour distance that trumps all the knowledge and the questions and the sure things, the distance that shows on a tuesday in the first quarter of a new year that's sure to be the best of your life. the kind of distance that makes you wonder how and why and if its really fair to be here and now despite the long and twisted, uncharted path you took to get to this very moment. the distance that grows a home of its own in your days and your nights, the distance that cannot be turned off at the flip of a switch or the drop of a hat or the doubt of an exhausted, inspired soul.

i am a sun-dazed river-rooted joy-seeking lover.
and depth
over distance
every
single
time.

the boy that moves

the boy that moves
the tides and
keeps watch over his
restful kingdom
came into
her path and eclipsed
her daylight--
he moves
the tides within and
keeps his
restful sovereign

today is the same and today is new--

today is the same and today is new--

same silver car with the

leather seats that are

always too hot or

too cold and the sunroof that

is always opened at the most

inconvenient of times like when

its about to rain or when the

wind is racing down the

freeway-new

stories that correspond with the

miles added to the counter on the

dash and fingerprints that

refuse to be washed 

clean.

same brick house, the one by the

sod farm, the house that smells like

fresh coffee, clean

laundry, and being young and 

stupid and alive- new 

traditions and measurements of

'normal' and love 

notes laying around the kitchen where it all

began.

same boy with the 

ocean colored eyes, the

same girl who chased him like

the moon-new,grown,gold

love, fear, reasons to

always remember the importance

of the silver car with leather seats and the

brick house that smells like laundry and 

the boy with ocean colored eyes who

promises to be there

always.