The Bench Confessions

I am currently taking a poetry-writing class, and it's my favorite! When I signed up for the class, I thought it would be just like writing songs, but it's very different.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I eat my lunch on a bench just in front of the English Building (Ray B. West), overlooking the Quad. I have discovered that this is the perfect time to whip out my notebook and, amid sandwhich crumbs, scratch out some poetry. This is my time to write about whatever I want. It's a beautiful thing. I've decided that I want to eventually gather up all my "lunchbreak" poems in one collection and call it

The Bench Confessions

Here is what I have so far. Keep in mind, these are merely my scribbles in my notebook, and not assignments for my class. And if you don't get it . . . it's all right - it is poetry!

The Other Side of Me

could you complete

someone enough

to find them

hiding inside you

maybe they’d be

so inclined to find

that you hide

inside them too

to find you

leaching

preaching

praying

day-dreaming

singing in their ears

I’m here

remember

we’re the same

I don’t think that I

qualify to be

the other half of

who you are

but you’re already

halfly hid

inside the

other side of me

2 Cents a Minute

you can talk to me

in Germany

for 2 cents a minute

and when you can’t sleep

you can call me

I’ll be eating dinner

and during your lunch break

I’m just waking up

I would love

to talk to you then

when you’re brushing your teeth

getting ready for bed

I am just getting out

of the pool

I have time for you

8 hours ahead

10 digits to dial

for 2 cents a minute

am I worth it

am I worth it

Only a Poem

a river without water

is just a fissure

and a chair without a back

is just a stool

a balloon without air

is just a choking hazard

a diamond without a ring

is just a rock

and an airplane without wings

is just a submarine

today without you

is just another day

my eyes are just blue

my heart is just beating

the sun is just shining

I’m doing just fine

a song without a tune

is just a poem

you are the music

and I am the words

so when you are gone

I am only a poem

I’ve Had Bitter Days

people disgust me

that couple by the steps

holding hands

touching

like nobody can see

honestly!

I take a bite

lipstick and juice

the white flesh

burns to brown

around the edges

like halibut under the broiler

I pick sticky skin out of my teeth

with my tongue

and spit it onto the sidewalk

apple is a little tart today

Handlebars

I would love to ride

on the handlebars

of a handsome boy’s bike

have him take the corners

carefully

my hair softly breezing

in his face

he smells my shampoo

and smiles

thinking I just have the cutest legs

dangling off those handlebars

I’d lean back

shrug my shoulders

so content

I’d feel his breath on my cheek

as he whispers

“you smell good…”

this will make me laugh

when we stop

he will catch me

in his hands

before I fall

off the handlebars

The Comma Butt

we are best friends Comma Butt

we live too far away

I wrote you a song Comma Butt

you'll never hear me play it

at night I miss you Comma Butt

I only get to have you in my dreams

I love you Comma Butt

you never will love me

Disappointed

who is the man

who stands there

in the shade

under the tree

he is dressed nice

blue button-up shirt

khaki slacks

I’d introduce myself

if I weren’t me

he turns

picks up his backpack

he’s walking this way

he’s right in front of me!

I smile

he doesn’t see

he looked so much more attractive

in the shade

under the tree

The Bench

I have become

the invisible girl

who sits

in front of the English Building

alone

on a bench

in the sun

during my lunch break

who writes poetry

for fun

who watches passing people

for inspiration

who recognizes them all

he rolls his own cigarettes

smokes them dead

and jams them into that ashtray – there

every day before class

she is always late

but hair and makeup always done

just right

she wears square glasses and likes scarves

that kid drives by

at approximately 1:20 every day

windows rolled down, sharing his loud music

I don’t care for heavy metal, but… thanks

who recognizes them all

and wonders

if they see

the invisible girl

on the bench

A Few Unforgettable Moments from Scout Camp...

Via Journal Entries:


June 6 -- "Today is the day I move to the Canoe Base in Jackson! It's raining, and my neck hurts."

June 7 -- "Has it only been one day? Long, hot shower, the best part of my day..."

June 9 -- "It's only Wednesday. All my muscles are angry at me. Yesterday, Dave told me he wanted me cross-trained on the river. I told him I was unsure about that... but I would try. Well, today I tried--bad idea.

June 11 -- "Yesterday it rained... a lot... again... There was an awesome hail storm. Everything in our tent got soaked. Hail was piled up everywhere; it was crazy... It will probably snow tonight."

June 13 -- "I miss being around older people..."

June 15 -- "Sunburnt--finally."

June 17 -- "I want to go home. I just don't know which one..."

June 22 -- "Camp is a lot more fun with scouts! I'm hosting a really great troop this session--Orchard 5th Ward. Funny thing--that's Ben Brown's ward! They love me. I love being loved. T.J. and Tesia and I snuck into a hotel's hot-tub last night. It was crazy fun. We ran around in our swim suits and got fro-yo's at Maverik. Good times!"

July 1 -- "How much longer until I quit failing at love? ...One troop this week nicknamed me "Blue Suede Sparrow." Then there was a scout who said I was a "G," after I fixed his helmet for him and showed him my awesome muscles. I don't know what being a "G" is all about. Is it kinda like a "G-ma?" I'll never know. Another troop called me "Aunt Jess," and presented me with a NERF gun on the last day, because I was so cool. They're all awesome in their own little ways."

July 5 -- "COPE was fun today. Tesia, Taylor, and I played M.A.S.H. and talked about boys... Jordan has been catching potguts. We put one in a little pink hamster ball and put it in Adam's tent. Went "branty" swimming last night... Long story..."

July 9 -- "Really? This week flew by. Fun water fight with two twin scouts named Tyler and Tanner."

July 14 -- "I'm really afraid of heights... This is a problem."

July 19 -- "Scout Master Dean, Toley the Russian, Levohn (whose real name was Jeff), Jake, and Dave the dentist. Fun group of scouts. Toley gave me flowers the last day. Okay, so technically they were weeds, but they were pretty and made my day! This weekend... Ready? Mountain sunbathing, streaking through the wilderness, Katie and Cody randomly showing up at camp, date with Levi, Bubba's, Taylor Swift in the car, windows rolled down, Katie + Me in 1 sleeping bag, all night long, no sleep, early church, my parents speaking, goodbye, back to my church, seeing Sam for the first time all summer, scratching Levi's back during Sacrament Meeting, potluck with Rendon, exhausted, fall asleep at 10, wake up, new day!"

July 22 -- "Last night there were bugs crawling around in my pajamas. By 3 am, I pulled two beatles out of my bra. I did not sleep well."

July 25 -- "A day for red lipstick... Yesterday, a bunch of us hiked around Phelp's Lake and jumped off the giant rock. I didn't jump off the rock. Tesia, Taylor, Caitlin, and I swam away from everyone and decided to go skinny dipping. It was awesome. But, man, my blistered feet are pretty bad. Tesia, Juice, Sadie, and Devon all took turns carrying me back to the car. Kaitlyn, Liz, and I slept on the kitchen roof last night. Full moon. Sweet!"

July 31 -- "Goodbye July. Today it rained. Hunter, Taylor, and I went to the pool, then it started pouring. On the way home, we stopped and chased a random loose peacock. We got soaked and I got a headful of cockel-burs. It was awesome!"

August 5 --"August has been fair to me. Hold on... my tent is blowing away. Alright, my tent is tied down now. I forgive August for the blazing heat, wretched wind, and terrible thunder storms that keep me awake at night."

August 8 -- "Johvan... I can't even find the words to describe him. We all loved him, and he was gorgeous (for a boyscout). Taylor, Tesia, and I wrote a lullaby for him. It went a little like this (to the tune of Down in the Valley): Down in the valley, valley so deep; Is little Johvan, deeply asleep. When he is sleeping, he never wakes; When little boy scouts, try to pull pranks. After 10:30, everyone Shh.......... Johvan is sleeping, inside his Shh.......leeping bag."

August 14 -- "Camp is over. Summer is ending. It's starting to get cold. I'm sitting outside trying to hold onto my tan... I should go write on my blog... Just the summer highlights, of course. There's no conceivable way I can squeeze my entire scout camp summer into one blog post."

Murder in the Backyard

Well, they went and did it again. My parents left Caitlin and me home alone for a week. Whenever I come home and supply them with a babysitter, they pick up and leave on some vacation. Jolly good... So, once again, I am mom.

It's only been a couple days, and things are going well. Caitlin has been getting her homework done, I've kept myself busy, and we haven't had to eat Maccachillicheezaroni yet. Last night we exercised--I danced in front of our big tv screen until the bandanna holding my hair back was drenched with sweat, and Caitlin ran on the elliptical for 30 minutes, and by that time, her whole face and body and t-shirt was drenched worse than me (just sayin'). Then we both showered. Not together. Then we read our books. Caitlin had to read "The Lord of the Flies" for her English class, and I was reading the book "Star Girl." At about 11:30 we got tired and went to bed.

This morning I woke up at 7:30 and fixed breakfast for Caitlin. We ate egg-avacado-sausage toasted sandwiches. It was very satisfying; Caitlin even thought so. Then she hustled off to school and I was alone. I finished "Star Girl," wrote in my journal, wrote a letter to my roommate, and played my guitar. One hour had gone by. I did the dishes, wiped off the counters, looked at my phone several times, and checked my Facebook. Another fifteen minutes had passed. I dusted all the surfaces in the dining room, rearranged all the ceramic dinky-dinks, individually polished each leaf on the artificial plant decor, and wiped down the wooden bureau and all the framed photos that sat on it. I opened up Grooveshark on my mom's computer and selected my longest playlist. Great music filled the air; one by one, I removed the chairs from the dining room for more intensive cleaning.

Glancing out the window, I could see the backyard and the bird feeder, where several different kinds of birds flitted and swooped and picked and scratched. I gazed, mesmerized. I marveled at their swift little bodies, sleek feathers, grace, and agility. Diving. Swiveling. Cavorting to and fro. The scene before me laced its fingers with time and melted into slow motion. I could make out all the details in their feet and feathers--every freckle, speckle, and spot. Everything was in place and perfectly balanced. As if caught up in a trance, I slowly moved closer to the window until my nose hovered dangerously close to the glass, threatening to leave a grease-mark. The birds. I watched the birds in their carefree world of song and birdseed.

One glistening Grackle lit onto the base of the feeder, using his long pointed beak to grab the seeds. Below the feeder, on the grass, amid the litter of sunflower seed husks, a female House Finch hopped about revolving her head up and around and minding her own business. She quickly glanced up at the feeder above her. In a split second, she spread her wings and lifted upward, landing right next to the Grackle.

Before I could blink, that dirty Grackle monster snagged the House Finch by the head and dragged her down to the ground. She wriggled and writhed, and helplessly flopped her wings, but, the evil Grackle, he pecked her brains out. Within seconds she was gone. The Grackle staggered back a few four-toed steps, cocked his head, paranoid, glancing in all directions, then he flew away. All the birds were gone by then.

I stood at the window, greasy face smashed completely against the glass, eyes wide and riveted on the disturbing scene. "Whoa..." I managed to say. For a while, I watched the brown speckled bird body lying on the grass, as still as a stone, waiting for it to hop up, shake its feathers, and fly away. It never did.

Hmm... I turned around, glanced at the clock, and headed for the broom closet. I swept the kitchen floor, then scrubbed the entire thing by hand with a small green scrubby. While I was down on the floor, I noticed the baseboards could also use a good cleaning. I ended up washing all the walls, and the cabinets, and the drawers, and the stove. Then I vacuumed the living room and wiped the bathroom mirrors.

A few hours had gone by.

I sat down, exhausted.

Then I went outside, grabbed a shovel, dug a hole by a tree, and buried the House Finch.

Caitlin came home. We made oatmeal-raspberry pancakes with banana/peanut butter for dinner. After dinner was put away and the dishes were done, I read "The Lord of the Flies" out loud to her on my bed. I tried to make it as exciting as I could, but she still kept falling asleep. So I kept waking her up. We ate some chocolate; that helped to keep her awake. We finished the book.

I successfully kept Caitlin from taking a nap. Hazzah!

I made a sign for her that reads, "Thou shalt not nap," and I hung it on the fridge. she covered it with a sign of her own, "Thou shalt nap with all thine heart."

She finished some more homework and went to bed at 11:00.

It has been quite the day.

Good night.

Let's Be Friends

Milly and I walked down to Adam's Park to swing on the swings, last week. The sun was low, and the evening air filtered crisply through the green of spring surrounding us. Milly swung higher and higher. Her long blond hair stretching out in the wind behind her, then sweeping forward to cover her face as she swung backward. Back and forth, back and forth, shooting her long legs out and tucking them in, ever going higher. I kept a steady swinging rhythm, but didn't dare swing any higher. I guess I am getting old, because things such as swinging and spinning, that I used to enjoy, have the tendency to make me nauseous these days.

The plastic seat hugged my hips tightly, and the chains in my hands felt cold and awkwardly large. I mentally drifted across the park. A group of college students played four-square, laughing, teasing each other, guys and girls alike, flirting shamelessly. One fellow from the group announced his departure, high-fived a few farewells, then leapt astride a greasy, old motorbike; he fired the bike up with a roar that attracted the attention of all in the park. The girls screamed and chattered in excited voices to each other. Milly and I startled in our seats, but continued to swing. The motorcycle boy flew from the park and up the street. I watched him until he turned a corner.

After the revving roar of the bike soaked into the distant mountains, the atmosphere quieted, and my ears picked up the sparkling sound of little voices. I turned to my right to discover the source of the playful sounds. I took in the sight of two fathers with their young families, watching their children play on the playground.

One of the dads was tall, balding, and calm. He sat on the grass and held onto the leash of a small white dog. His little girl, age 6 or 7, ran over to him, "Daddy! Pleeeeease, will you push me on the swing?!" The dad replied, "You're a big girl, can't you swing yourself now?" "But Daddy, it's so much funner if you push me." She smiled and pulled on his arm. In my mind I said, "C'mon dad, push your little girl. She wants to feel you there." The dad chuckled, tied the dog's leash to a pole, and walked with the girl to the swings. The little girl squealed in joy as she flew from her father's hands through the air.

Milly and I continued to swing in silence.

The sun slipped slightly lower in the sky.

The second dad was short and wiry with a scratchy goatee. He stood, following his two daughters (both close in age, probably 5-8) around the playground as they slid down the slide, hung from the monkey bars, and jumped and climbed and laughed. The stick from a sucker stuck, like a cigarette, from the corner of his mouth. He occasionally yelled out, "Don't do that! Get down! You're gonna fall! Get off of that!" The two girls thoroughly enjoyed their play, despite the restrictions. One of them trotted over to the swings and began swinging next to the happy girl whose daddy still pushed her.

I watched as the two girls smiled at each other. Then the already being pushed girl said to the new girl, "Hey, let's be friends." New girl smiled and said, "Okay." Happy girl yelled back to her pusher, "Daddy, she needs to be pushed too. Push my friend too." The pusher asked the new girl, "Would like a push? Can I push you?" New girl smiled even bigger, "Okay!" So the tall, balding man pushed the two giggling girls, they were all friends, and I smiled to myself.

Milly and I stopped swinging.

The sun had gone down.

It was dark.

And cold.

We walked home, and I was glad to have a friend.

Dreams Do Come True!

I caught a fleeting glimpse of myself reflected in a mirror--an elegant young lady wearing a pink, sequin-smattered, Prom dress--gracefully spinning and stepping in time to the waltz blasting through the speakers. Everyone in the room stepped back and watched us dance...

Wait. Us?

Again, I referred to the mirror on the wall. A closer look showed a blond, 20-year-old woman in a borrowed formal, waltzing to Josh Groban's "So She Dances," in the arms of a brown-eyed, 16-year-old, high school boy in a tux. I felt my high-heel precariously tread on the hem of my dress.

What am I doing here?

You are probably wondering the same. I'll tell you...

"Jess... Do you want to do something crazy tonight?" Katie asked me last Saturday evening.

"Yes." I didn't even have to think before I answered.

"Jess, let's go to the Prom!"

Through my cell phone, I laughed and told her, "No way! We can't do that; we're way too old. We'll get in trouble."

"No we won't... I did it last year."

"You were still in high school last year!"

"Oh yeah, huh. Well, it would be pretty fun. You could wear my pink, poofy, sparkly dress, and I'll wear the peach one. Wouldn't that be awesome? We'll just sneak in for the last half hour--nobody will even know we're there."

"Well, I guess it would be fun..."

"We won't be there for too long."

"And we're Kerr girls!" I exclaimed.

"What does that mean?" Asked Katie, confused.

"It means that we can get away with anything!"

"Yes!"

"Okay, let's go to Prom, Katie."

She came over to my apartment, we thought skinny thoughts, held our breath, and zipped up the old Prom dresses. Make-up, hair, lip-stick, jewelry--we looked just like hyper, sixteen-year-old kids excited to go to the Junior Prom. Well, okay... not quite, but pretty close!

In our formal dresses, Katie and I snagged a couple smoothies from the McDonald's drive-thru, parked on Main Street, and then, arm in arm, we walked to the Prom. There was a fateful moment at the main entrance, when we almost chickened out. Lucky for Katie and me, a couple guys walked out to cool down and recognized us (well, they recognized Katie, mostly). We filled them in on our plot to sneak into Prom. They agreed to help us.

"Just take the elevator up to the 3rd floor, and you'll be in." One of the boys suggested.

"Yes! Perfect. The elevator." Said Katie in response.

Following the two boys, we made it into the elevator. The doors opened, revealing a dimly lit hallway on the third floor. We followed the hallway, climbed a short splat of stairs into the hot, shimmering, hub-bub of Bear River's Junior Prom! Katie and I squealed and grabbed each other's hands. We were in!

Almost instantly, the little children around us noticed that there was something not quite right about the two blond women in pink dresses. Some of them even recognized Katie, and thought it was hilarious that we, mature college adults, would show up to such a juvenile, social event. I felt very old.

"Where's Jacob?" Katie asked one of the girls. Jacob is our cousin, and we knew he was at the Prom that night.

"He's up those stairs." The girl pointed. We hoisted up our frilled skirts and scampered up the stairs. There was Jacob, standing in a group of friends. The poor boy didn't know what to think when we came bustling up to him, all grins and giggles. I hope he wasn't too embarrassed.

"What are you guys doing here?!" He gasped in uttermost shock, and in a daze, hugged both Katie and me.

"We came to Prom!" We shouted in unison. Jacob just laughed and rolled his eyes and turned back to his date. Katie and I then rocked and jigged and grooved our dancing souls to bits on the dance floor, with confused and curious high school juniors intently observing. Then THE song came on! It was a waltz. My heart shed a tear right there, because there was no one for me to waltz with. The all too familiar feeling of hopeless "if only-ness" bore me down. I love to waltz.

Then Jacob walked past us...

"Jake!" I yelled and grabbed his arm. He spun around.

"Dance with me." I commanded, and he obeyed. "Can you waltz, boy?" I implored.

Hesitantly, he confirmed that, yes, he could, "a little." In my pink dress and high-heels, I led him through a dramatic waltz lesson. He spun me around; the bottom of my dress ruffled out in magenta waves. I gracefully held my head at a just-so tilt, while my arms floated and my feet tip-toed.

Looking up at Jacob, I whispered, "I never got asked to Prom." Kudos to him for acting sympathetic. He spun me again, I laughed, and everyone at the prom stopped what they were doing to watch the mystery girl, in the center of the dance floor, living a dream that expired four years ago.

Go to Prom and feel like a princess--CHECK!

Bubble Bath

That evening, I was not motivated at all. Katie sat on the couch, working on homework, while I flapped around the living room, not quite sure what to do with myself. I was craving chocolate. I had to have chocolate! Finally, for the sake of my own survival, I pulled out of my cupboard some oatmeal, oil, sugar, cocoa, and peanut butter. Combining my ingredients in a pot, I attempted to make a form of chocolate no-bake cookies.

The cookies turned out quite delicious, even though there were some random hard chunks. At least, they were yummy chunks--like toffee. I ate about five cookies. Katie only ate two. There was one left. Neither one of us could tackle it.

Sitting on the couch, in a cookie coma, groaning and holding my stomach, I turned to Katie and said, "I'm going to take a bath. Maybe if I get clean and relaxed, I'll be able to accomplish something." With that, I heaved myself off the couch and toward the bathroom. I stripped down and took all the bobby pins out of my hair. Before I filled the tub, I wanted to brush my teeth, but my toothbrush was in my room. Wrapping my towel around me, I tiptoed to my room.

Suddenly my phone started ringing in the front room. Still in just my towel, I ran in and picked it up off the couch.

"Jess! What are you doing?! Where are your clothes?" Katie sat there, appalled at my nakedness.

"My phone! It's Loren!" I screamed. Katie screamed. "What do I do? This is really awkward! Oh well, he'll never know." I screamed again and took a deep breath, "Hello?"

Katie giggled, and I walked back into my room

"Hi, Jessie. How was your day?" Loren's voice asked through the phone.

"Oh, it's been an alright day. How was yours?" I tucked my towel around me a little tighter.

"I had a good day. Hey, I'm up on campus right now, are you available?"

"Uh... I can be."

"Want to go for a walk?"

Panicking, I ran my fingers through my messy hair-do and glanced at my clothes, in a pile, on the floor by my feet. "Sure. Uh, yeah... I'd like that."

"Great! I'll be there in like twenty seconds!"

My eyes popped out of my face, and I almost lost my towel. "Oh, okay. See ya..." I hung up the phone and ran out to the front room. "Katie!!! He's coming over right now! He'll be here any second! And I'm naked! What do I do?! Aaaah!"

Katie laughed uncontrollably as I banged around in my towel, phone in hand, screaming desperately.

"Jessie, just go get dressed right now!" Katie stood up and pushed me toward my room. I threw on a shirt and pair of jeans. When I walked out, Katie said, "Jess! What happened to the skirt you were wearing before?"

"I don't have time to put my tights back on! This'll be fine." I told her.

"No. You have to wear the skirt." She threw the skirt and tights in my face and shut me in the bathroom. I lost the jeans and wrestled on the tights, screaming and grunting as I struggled.

I stood in front of the mirror, trying to fix my mess of hair, zipped up my skirt, and took a deep, calming breath. Then I walked out, and there stood Loren, smiling. I blushed and held my jeans behind my back. "Hi..."

Later that night, after I returned from my walk with Loren, I attempted once more the bath I wanted so badly. I asked Katie if she wanted to take a bath with me, "We'll just get in our swim suits, and I have some bubble bath; it'll be so funny!"

"No, Jess... I have to do my math." She secretly really wanted to.

"C'mon, Katie! Pleeeeease!!!"

She rolled her eyes and set her math book down, "Fine! Okay..."

I laughed, "Yes! You can wear my pink swim suit."

We donned our bathing attire and began filling the tub, adding a generous amount of bubble bath. Sitting cross-legged, we fit perfectly, the two of us, in the tub. I shampooed my hair and styled it into a lathery mohawk. Katie squealed with laughter and clapped her hands. Next, I used shampoo to shoot her hair out sideways. We splashed and giggled and took turns scrubbing each other's scalps.

Laura, my roommate, walked in, "What is going on?!" She bent over, laughing. "What in the world... you two are hilarious." She stood there and laughed as Katie and I rubbed bubbles all over our bodies. Then my other roommate, Annalynne, came in with her camera and took pictures of the two crazy cousins in the tub.

I turned to Katie, pouring water on her head with my hands, smiled and said, "Cousins who bathe together..."

"...Stay together!" Katie and I shouted in unison.

It Is Something Else--Growing Old

Courtney and I helped Grandma chop vegetables for the stir-fry. Katie slept. When she finally woke up, we told her that she had to do all the dishes now, because she didn't help with the meal preparation. Grandma told me to cut the onions a certain way, because "That's the way the Asians do it." She cooked the chicken first, then the vegetables. I sat on the low counter by the stove and watched, but had to move when the oil in the pan started spitting on me.

Once the stir-fry, rice, chow-mein noodles, and an array of condiments sat on the table, we all sat up, anxious to eat.

"Shall we have family prayer?" Grandpa said, and we slid out of our chairs and onto our knees. "Grandma doesn't kneel. We kneel for her." Added Grandpa. I smiled. Grandma folded her arms and bowed her head, sitting in her chair, and we prayed.

Dinner was fabulous. Aunt Kim joined us soon after we started eating. I had two helpings, which was probably too much, but it was so good. Grandma was so excited about all the vegetables we used in the stir-fry. She told us, "Grandpa doesn't like to eat his vegetables. I make sure to feed him two servings of vegetables for every meal." Grandpa glumly speared a droopy broccoli tree and ate it obediently.

"Even breakfast?" Kim asked. We laughed at this.

"No," Grandpa answered, "She only feeds me one serving of vegetables for breakfast." He winked at Grandma, and she threw her hands up and laughed.

"This man never eats enough vegetables..." Grandma told us.

"Boy, it's sure nice to reach the age when people stop telling you what to eat..." Said Grandpa, "I hope to get there someday." He smiled, and his joke made us all clap our hands and hug our sides with laughter.

"When we go to the Senior Center for lunch, all those folks wonder why Dr. Kerr isn't eating his vegetables." Grandma informed us.

"Those aren't the people I'm referring to." Grandpa winked again.

Aunt Kim produced a bag of chewy, cherry, chocolate candy, and passed it around the table. Pretty soon our mouths were watering and chomping on delicious cherry goodness.

"Mm... Those are so morish!" Grandma exclaimed, closing her eyes.

"What's morish, Grandma?" I asked.

"It means you just gotta have more." She reached back in the bag and popped another one in her mouth, closing her eyes to enjoy the morishness.

Kim handed Katie a couple early birthday presents, while we finished our morish cherry chocolates. One present was a cute, uplifting, girl book, and the other was a stylish knit headband with a flower on the side. Grandma loved the headband, and thought it was really something. She asked Katie if she could try it on. Katie handed it over, and Grandma slipped it on, over her silver hair.

"Oh! I could wear this to church! How does it look?" She smiled and poofed her hair with her hand.

"It looks great, Grandma. Way hot!" I said, and Kim handed Grandma a small mirror. Grandma held it out and stared at her reflection. At first she laughed, then her smile softened, growing slightly melancholy. She brought a hand to her face, tracing the lines and wrinkles, fingering the gray hair.

"Try tucking your hair behind your ears." I suggested.

She tucked her hair behind her right ear, "Hearing aid..." she smiled and tucked the other side, "Oh look, another hearing aid!" We all chuckled, and Grandma set the mirror down and handed the headband back to Katie. "Let me tell ya, it is something else--growing old..." Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she added, "But it's better than the alternative. I'll take getting old over dying any day!" Grandma smiled at Grandpa, and he smiled back. We laughed and passed the bag of morish chocolates around one more time.