Texts with a husband

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They're usually pretty interesting... 



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These Words Are Mine

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Who said "Actions Speak Louder Than Words"? I want to talk to that guy. It must be a guy... I am certain. I understand the purpose and point and practicality of such an expression, I understand how we must be accountable for our actions, and not confuse the honesty of what we do, with the ease of words that leave our mouths, oftentimes without much thought, or consideration. Perhaps I rely on the words too much, When my actions seem insufficient. When there isn't a chance to show or make actionable, I am one of words. The way they fall off the pages of a book, and make me cry, or laugh, or scan, rapidly, unable to read fast enough to satisfy my curiosity. The words that are in the songs, That I carefully digest and interpret, Perhaps erroneously. Though it is likely the case that, whatever my favorite songs are at any given moment give some indication of what is on my mind. The words that fall out of your mouth, oftentimes w...
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I have been thinking of pancakes and eggs. I don't know why. But the craving hasn't subsided, though I cannot say it has intensified... it just remains... in appetite purgatory. I have craved this pairing a few days now. And I am not a pancakes kind of gal, so I am a bit befuddled by it creeping into my psyche, every day, throughout the day. I wouldn't call it torture or taunting, I would call it unfinished business. And today I couldn't help but wonder whether it was the pancakes and eggs I wanted, or whether what I wanted was the idea of a long, leisurely breakfast with someone. And as I sit here, at midnight, unable to sleep before an early a.m. flight, I know that there is something more meaningful worth writing about, and yet, these pancakes and eggs won't leave me alone... Because a long, indulgent, carbohydrate-rich breakfast is usually shared by people who have time to sit and enjoy one another's company. ...
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Sometimes I Miss

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Sometimes I miss yesterday. Sometimes I miss being naive, not knowing what I know, not relating everything to something else. Sometimes I miss people. I miss who they were, naive, not knowing what they know. I miss when we weren't political, or knew that religion could divide us more than unite us. Sometimes I miss the me that didn't know what it felt like to have my heart broken. I miss her because she didn't question people, or the certainty of the future. I miss the days when all things seemed possible but I didn't think about the possibilties because, like, huh?  I didn't have time for, like, thinking about possibilities and I didn't have to worry anyway. I miss that insecure feeling I would get when I forgot my pager at home and totally swore I was missing the most important page of my life and couldn't wait to be reunited with my pager. I miss not worrying about the effects of not wearing sunscreen. I miss the summers w...
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