I'm not one for Titles'.

It is plaid, emerald green and black.

My grandmothers.         Grandma Jo.

It comes just above my knees, and has a lovely neckline. A small amount of velvet lines the cuffs of the sleeve.

She has been saving it all of these years in the back of her closet.

The same green of my little dress lined the pale blue of the sky up the canyon today. Like God had taken a paintbrush and intricately drawn the jagged lines of the small trees above me, highlighting the last bit of what sky is left. The world is quiet there, my mind slips away from its frantic normality and ends up somewhere in the space above my head. I can hear myself breathe, hear the river make its way back to where it came from.

Like me.

I want to end up back here.

Where I came from.

But with Him, whoever Him will be. 

Hopefully Him, though.

I want a library, filled with literature. Filled with books of all shapes and sizes and categories. I want a tall ladder that swings around the entire room, and a window seat: please.

Thick blankets, warm lamps,warm undercooked chocolate chips, a fire that illuminates our shadows against the oak of the floor.

 I want a flower garden in the backyard. 

I want hidden doorways, and creaky stairs that wind in circles. I want to fall asleep in a fort, and wake up to wildflowers. I want to bring you breakfast: buttermilk pancakes and wheat toast with blood red homemade jam. I want to stay up all night with you listening to the rain angrily pound against the roof,our roof I mean. Want to watch it drip through the ceiling. I want to jump into the lake outback in a yellow sundress, and I want you to jump after me in your white shirt and tie.

I want you, mostly.

I want you from afar, as I watch you grow, and learn.

I want you in the midst of math problems and fan clubs.

I want you tomorrow as we eat raw chicken out of your refrigirator.

And I want you in your letters over the next few years.

And someday: i'd like a library,please.

Will you build me one?

I will kiss your toes, 

and you might kiss my eyelids like you used to in high school.

and who even cares? Because we will be grown ups. Twenty one maybe. 

You said we will dance in the kitchen.

"Oh, but you are lovely. Never, never change."

Merry Christmas. And Happy New Years, too.

Love,

Rachael Cherish.

(itwasnevermyintention)

1dream noun, often attributive \ˈdrēm\

a : a visionary creation of the imagination: daydream

b : a state of mind marked by abstraction or release from reality : reverie

: something notable for its beauty, excellence, or enjoyable quality

Thursday night I went with my D.L. friends (" The nerd herd", "the loud ones in the library", "the uvu kids") to go see Pirates of the Caribbean four at midnight. Do not go see it. Waste of money.
The following day I raced home after school to catch up on some sleep before I proceeded to my night shift at Orange Leaf. Orange Leaf, on the other hand, I would highly recommend.


While sleeping on my bed in the late afternoon, I had a dream.
I rarely dream, and if I do, it is some sort of hazy, slipping, dim, and confusing memory that dances in front of my eyelids for only a few seconds before I wake up.

This dream was different.

I can close my eyes and remember every raw detail. The vivid green of the grass, the black of the trampoline beneath us, the patterns in his eyes, the blue of the sky, and the laziness of the clouds drifting overhead.
It was all so real.
We laid there on my tramp and listened to the beautiful silence that had never once caused me discomfort, but pure peace. We quietly talked and felt the sunshine warm our faces, he told me of what had been going on in his life, I told him of mine. 
He leaned over and he kissed me. I was only dreaming, but I felt it. You know? It was him. He was right there.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and began whimpering into his ear begging him to never leave again, begging him to stay, to be my friend, to listen to the rest of my day, to tell me more about how his family is doing. 
He laughed his laugh, pried me off of him and set me into his lap.
He told me I was being silly, that it was all a bad dream, that he promised he would always be my best friend, that he wasn't going anywhere at all, that he loved me.
I buried my head into his chest, wonderfully relieved, and let all my fears drift away with the white clouds above us.

And then I woke up.

You know, after a dream like that, it would have been perfectly normal for me to wake up with tears streaming down my cheeks.

I didn't wake up with tears in my eyes though, in fact I didn't cry at all.

I smiled the rest of the night.

It didn't make me love him again, or want him back.

I feel as though it was my subconscious brain's way of allowing me to be with him one last time.

It was a goodbye, a happy goodbye we never got.

b : something that fully satisfies a wish : ideal.

c : an object seen in a dreamlike state

At our student council party this weekend Mister Gregory Rellaford passed on the spirit horn to me.

The spirit horn has been around since the golden days, the days when my older brother was an SBO. I am honored. 

Summer is around the corner, I can almost taste it. 

There is so much to look forward to, and so many memories to smile back on.

I can't believe my junior year is coming to an end, it has truly been an unforgettable year.

I wouldn't go back and change one thing.

Good luck to the seniors. Change the world. Be yourself. Represent well. ;)

oh,

Read Hannah's blog post. I look up to her very much, and this post is absolutely beautiful. It was just what I needed to hear. Thank you.

Only two more weeks of school left. Make them good.

Don't be afraid.

Don't stress.

Stress is fear.

Just believe, have faith.

It will all work out in the end.