Friday, March 27, 2015

fireworks in a community


How far?
A week.
Seven days, but really eight when you are counting this one.
And there is something about seeing these days, how you look at your week.


notes from last one:


Tonight's birthday party when we had to get there fast because if Josh had eaten a part of that lasagna before we walked in the door then yeah, we'd be mad. He wouldn't do that. We just like to pick on him. It was pretty amazing to watch you watching him play your guitar. You two are cool together and Little Bird is "sure" which means yes which means I walk always asking questions of the affirmative variety. 

Are those two butterflies?
Sure.
Is that a mud puddle?
Sure.
Is that a rock?
Sure.
Is that a tree?
Sure.

You get the picture.
Plus, it's our fault.
We stayed too long at your lesson.

But I shouldn't have sped. Not in front of you because it was you and I don't ever want you to speed.

Today you showed me again how beautiful you are.
You know how?
With your gratitude. It was like a brilliant light to watch. It was Special Afternoon.

It started with a message. Then a card. Then a walk. Then a drive till a certain time listening to country music and singing and talking about music and cows and houses and friends and what type of traits we like in people.

1. Sense of humor.
2. Truck.
3. Honest.
4. Kind.
5. Believes in work.
6. Creates rather than destroys.
7. We measure ourselves to others.

And Tyler. Tonight you and Tyler sat in two chairs facing each other.
It is quite an honor and you knew it so the smile that came across your face was 

how do you describe it?




1. Sweet.
2. You look at him. You look at me.
3. You look back at him, and he says, 

"Hey, you. I don't know if you remember me from when me, you, and her sat down and had lunch and talked about music. My name is Tyler, and you should just take that guitar sitting on that table behind you."

He points over your left shoulder.


You look back and then again at him, 
and then me.

And you want me to tell you something. 
Like Happy Birthday. 
That's your guitar.
But I don't.

Because.

You had to get that guitar out of that case and it's huge and ohmygosh. heavy. Yamaha. steel strings on frets with notes and a pick and a tuner and which finger and poetry to make your Daddy smile because he looked at you and saw 

Shiny and beautiful.
(as he always does. so much so it scares him how much he loves you.)

And your reflection in that thing is like Slater that one Christmas when I could do all I could do to show out. This was that for you and me.

If you love it and play it and practice it like you did this night, not even that much. Just fifteen minutes and like he said. It's not going to be easy, you. The tips of your fingers will be sore at first but sore just reminds you that you feel them and feeling them will remind you of that thing that made you shine tonight.


Your guitar.

Yes. You figured it out during your lesson with Tyler.

which is all Whut? Girl.

Then your party.
Lasagna done both for meal and dessert. And candles and the most beautiful, beautiful song.
And we sang it together as if one voice. Tonight for you it was because family comes together for important.

But the song I loved the most was one, two, three, four. Strumming G chord. Strumming C.
Next time you see him you'll have those and the switch in between.
I think. 
Or not.
Dear me, shut up.



(I'll whisper this part)
My after party is writing and wondering if you will name it, her, him.
If so I can't wait to hear that name.

'Cause maybe one day you'll write a song about the name of your guitar or maybe you already have because for me and you the title of something is very important. 
(especially when you get to name it, her, him.)





Today I am grateful for a day that starts in the most incredibly thick fog and ends with a party.
Crazy beautiful. All of it.
Crazy beautiful for you and him and them and every flipping last one of us.
Only thing that gets in the way is what we think of ourselves, you.


I believe you are beautiful and love.
That's what I believe.



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