the chronicles and imagination of Amanda hazard
I feel like if we could all choose to grow up to a certain age, and then live at that age for the rest of our lives, life would look pretty interesting. Can you imagine having a grandparent that looks like they’re thirty-four your entire life? Or even being a grandparent that looks thirty-four? That’d be insane.
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Oma asks me this same question every night. It doesn’t matter if it’s 10:00pm on her way to her room, or 3:00am for her midnight snack, she’ll walk by my door, and ask, “are you still up?”
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If you’ve been reading my blog, you know that I was going through a rough patch. A really rough patch. I rarely left my bedroom house, I barely spoke to anybody, and I didn’t eat all that much. Yeah, that’s when you know it’s bad; even food wasn’t my friend. And I love food.
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Everything that I write on my blog comes from me, in the moment. A lot of the posts I write touch up more on my past than my present, and there might be an issue because of this. Had I written those things down in the moment they were happening, or right after, I would have a better detail and memory as to what actually happened.
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Isn’t it weird that whenever you’re home for an extended period of time, you’d like to be anywhere but there; but when you’re away for a while, that’s the only place you want to be? Whether it’s the smell of breakfast in the morning, how excited the dogs get when you walk in through the door, the feel of the Egyptian cotton sheets on your bed, or just the sight of your mother’s face—you miss it.
Read MoreYou know how people say things like, “life moves fast,” and “things can happen in the blink of an eye”? Yeah, well, this morning was interesting.
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I used to be the kind of person who made fun of people who were open books. Not make fun of them maliciously or anything, I just didn’t understand how people could just be so, well, open. Even as a kid, I didn’t really get a grasp on the whole I-got-my-heart-on-my-sleeve, I-tell-people-how-I-really-feel kind of thing.
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