trading

longings(things that remind us that we are going to die):

Well, there's lightning at dusk in the desert to start. And hot feet at night when the breeze won't stir and you can't find a cool side of the pillow. Watching a room go dark? Yeah. And cows standing on Horse Heaven hill in all the sagebrush. Russian Olives down by the river always get me. There is something about their smell, isn't there. Running out of the ocean as it starts to rain and then standing on the front porch, covered in sand and shivering while you wait for everyone else to take their turn in the shower. Ohh. That's a good one. How about laying in the dark, praying that Jesus won't come back til after summer camp. The smell of tomato plants. Train tracks. Falling asleep while my mom vaccuums in the other room. Gramcracker singing cowboy songs. You.

& comforts(things that distract us from the fact that we are going to die):

Tea! Sad songs, strangely enough. A row of apple trees. Finding lipstick in the bottom of my bag. I guess I wouldn't know about that one. No, I guess not. Clean laundry, the way my mother smells. Eating rice out of a bowl with a spoon. Falling asleep on the couch during a movie. Chocolate cake for lunch and wearing your favorite underwear. Blankets made of smooth fabric. The sound of bicycle spokes and orange flowers and words that rhyme. The cinnamon rolls my mom bakes and cold cokes and watermelon and peach pie. Trees with leaves and birds flapping their wings in the dust. Gin and tonic and dancing all night. Green dresses! Cute boys! Cowboy movies, record players and drum sticks. Beautiful girls with yellow hair. You.