Saturday Sneeze

When I was younger, I would spend the weekends with my grandparents about twenty-minutes away from my home. Sick or well, rain or shine, on Friday afternoons my mom would put me in the car and travel to the northern shore of our island where I would spend my time splashing in the cool pool, eating too many cookies, and lounging on the cushiest couch you can imagine.

My Mema (as my grandmother proudly goes by) would fluff up that couch, cover it with pillows and blankets, and plop me right in the center. She would sit down by my feet and we would watch TGIF while eating ice cream sundaes.

Now here, here is where the most vivid part of my childhood memory on the couch comes in. My Mema would occasionally lean over and pick up my feet. My feet that spent the day barefoot in the grass, kicking in the pool, running to catch the ice cream man, and tiptoeing on the splintering deck. She would pick them right up, put them up to her face and give the bottoms of them a big, tickling kiss. I remember thinking to myself "you must have to love someone a whole lot to want to kiss the bottoms of their feet. A whole whole lot." I couldn't fathom why anyone would want to kiss anyone else's toes, even ones as cute as my little sneeze feet. But she did, time and time again.

Now I'm the one who is leaning over to kiss little baby feet. And I get it. There is nothing as sweet as the soles of a little child. They are covered with the scent of bath-time, dandelions, and peanut butter sandwiches. They are flicked with specks of glitter, watermelon seeds, and sometimes a little purple nail polish. Kissing sneeze feet is as close as you can get to pure childhood; it's like saying "I may have grown up, but please let this kiss be a way for these little feet to stay this small forever." I get it. Little toes are incredibly irresistible and kissable. And no matter whose little feet they are, anyone with a heart must love them a whole lot.

The Sneezeweed

Here I am. The little sneeze version of me. The version I still feel like I am most of the time. The version with big dreams and an even bigger imagination. The version of me that could get lost in a field of wildflowers, surrounded by ponies and rivers with jumping fish, sweet summer winds and cool crisp grass- all from the scratchy green carpet that covered my living room floor. The version of me that I feel in my heart and see in the mirror. The sneezeweed version.

I always was a sneezeweed. A flower that blooms in the fall when the world least expects life to spring from the earth. I always was a late blooming bud. I was born in late August, after a long, hot (and presumably miserable for my mother) summer. In elementary school, I stayed the same height for three years before shooting up like a weed in an untended garden. I hid dolls behind my bras in my closet so that I could take them out and comb their hair when the house was quiet. I sat in algebra daydreaming about tree forts and lemonade in summer-heat. I still kick my shoes off and relish in having dirt covered soles any chance I get. But occasionally, when it is certainly least expected, I spring up out of a decollate autumn state and bloom in new and exciting ways. Birthdays come with one more candle on the cake. High-water pants are left to goodwill and replaced with crisp new clothes. The dolls get packed away and the daydreams change. Though, I doubt I will ever dislike the feeling of the dirt between my toes-- once a sneezeweed, always a sneezeweed.

So what led me here? I thought you'd never ask- It is mid summer, the year I graduated college and, naturally, I am still tight in my bud wondering when in the world it will be time for me to spring up and shock the leaf barren trees. This time though, I am well aware that growth is ahead. And in an effort not to freak/ hyperventilate/ jump from the nearest rooftop, I have chosen to look for the little things in life that make me calm and happy in the present moment. And share them here in the hopes that they make you happy too.

Here you will find images, photos, views from my side of the lens. From the sneezeweed standpoint. So while other post-grads are off buying suits and practicing their best handshake at stuffy business dinners, I will be embracing the smiling girl in the image above, shoes off, searching for my destiny in the here and now.