Love is . . .

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly

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Love is a kiss, a peck, and a passion.

It’s a tender touch and a vacuumed floor.

It’s a bitten tongue when being right is less important than the painful memory.

Love is a hug that warms to the middle,

and sometimes love is a hug that is just a hug and a movie.

Love is an overheard compliment and a bouquet of flowers ripped from the garden,

and it’s also a cell call to look out and see the sunset.

It’s a trip to the beach and a trip to the hospital

and it builds and tears and builds again, lasting for a lifetime–

a whole lovetime.

Kel and Lil 2009

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My teacher told me . . .

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly

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Growing up, I wanted to be a ballet dancer–at least, that’s what I told my first grade teacher.

(My first grade teacher was my teacher for 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th, as well, but that’s another story.  Many stories.)

I also remember her telling me how ridiculous an idea that was and how I would never be able to master ballet

because

I was too tall and too thick.

So I decided not to be a ballet dancer.

I told my first grade teacher I wanted to be a poet and a singer, and she worked so hard at criticizing and shaping my craft that I decided poems were best written in the top of apple trees or on roofs

or in my tree house in the old elm, words washed down with Jello tea, soda crackers, and sometimes tears.

And I told my teacher I wanted…

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