Summer Memories

The Summer I was Fifteen…

“We’ll make the great escape.”
The summer we found that fast
cars and risky boys replaced
painting nails at sleepovers was our escape.
Doors into a new world,
words that poured out of
his mouth were meant to lull
me into seduction.
Submerged in the cool river,
all worries and conscientious
thinking vanished from my
freckled skin.
The make up that we slapped
on our faces melted away
as we broke the surface
of that murky water.
We were invincible,
all to impress a summer romance.
There was always room for more
Pixie Sticks to coat our mouths
and sly boys to cover our eyes.
Staying out late enough for mom
to wait up for us after leaping
through my open bedroom window
meeting the crisp night air.
Breathing deep, the smell of
grass and cologne met my nose
as my hands fly out his car window,
tracing the stars in the early
morning sky.
The summer we found fast
cars and risky boys was our
great escape.

Current Thoughts

Today officially marks one week before our departure for spring break; yah Bahamas! Not only am I very excited for that day, I also can't wait until my yearbook arrives. During my class, we looked at the on-line version. It turned out great.
The one thing that seems to be on my mind is how much I have to do, but how little time I have to get it all done. This seems to be the general trend of my senior year. Its not really the amount of work that I have to put into things, but rather the things that I have to get done. I have learned the value of responsibilities and strategical thinking. Everything has to be done for a reason to better myself. I am finally becoming an adult.
I am also coming to realize that I am ready to have someone become my companion. Usually relationships, and ideas that go along with that, were scary to me. But now I hate being alone. That sounds really sad and pathetic. I see all of my friends and family having things to do with the people that they love, and I know now that maybe I should have learned to love others more easily.

Interesting thoughts of today.

Senior Poem

This is the place where
we made our first friends.
This is where we
played capture-the-flag on the playground.
This is when we
entered our project into the science fair.
This is the classroom where
we smiled at our first crush.
This is the time that
we gave up old friends to be popular.
This is the feeling we had
when we first stepped into the final chapter.
This is when we realized
who our real friends were.
This is the person that
you would call your high-school sweetheart.
This is the last semester
until we can finally get out of this place.
And this is the last walk across that stage
before our lives change forever.

Real Name Poems

My real name is Jennifer
To those that speak it well,
my name is frequent on their tongues.
The ones with power use and abuse it,
stressing the letters.
Secretly, my name is screaming out
against heavy responsibility.
My name loves being spoken
being needed
but somehow it hates hearing me say it.



My real name is Jennifer
In the halls I am married to Forrest Gump,
But at home Lynn seems to be my shadow.
Those that know me longer
say my name shorter.
Jennie
Jen
J

Child's Imagination

We would sit in that old apple tree. I smile just thinking about how long we would perch on the dead limbs. Somehow a game came out of the field in my front yard. Courtney was too young to climb the giant, and she would never make it through the high grasses. So that is where Ang and I dwelled all afternoon. Sitting in the hot sun, sipping juice boxes. There were no apples or leaves to entertain us, but we managed. I will never forget the day when it came crashing down. We were still sitting in it. Did you hear that noise? The trunk gave us a warning as it cracked open. It didn't hurt at all; no battle wounds. Only then, butt planted in the dirt, did I realize that the tree wasn't such a giant at all.

What Lies Beyond

Family road trips. This is the place that I looked at for miles along the side of the car. I always wondered what layed behind the turns of the trees; what followed the rows of corn on the other side? Who lives back in those woods? Is there a greener pasture on over the hills? This is like the place that I call home. It reminds me of this town, and small communities. I would fall asleep to the humming of the car and the wheels scraping the pebbles along the high way. I want to run through the rows in the pasture, just to see where I would end up. Then lay under a tree near a meadow, and see what the marshmellow clouds want to tell me.