Two-Bit Musings.

The Bags.

I’m packing a bundle of button-less bags, to be metaphorically thrown off a bridge.

Inside are collections of nonsensical guilt: time spent worrying that I’m too much of this or not enough of that.

Clanking around are mismatched jars of other people’s history; deceiving friendships; all the instances I’ve been made an example of because I’m small, receptive, and kind.

I’ve thrown in my Size 4 Jeans that will surely never fit again.

I shove in meaningless knick-knackery that is supposed to be sentimental, but only sneers in silence.

I toss in the paperback version of a book that has caused so much grief, turmoil, and death.

My hands sprinkle in the ripped remains of photos from a life no longer lived.

Burn, motherfucker.

Burn.

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer, painter, wife, mom, and speaker of sometimes unpopular truths.

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Two-Bit Musings.

Wrinkled Hands.

Here & There, 2015. Original Photo by SnapDragon X. All rights reserved, yo.

As I washed this morning’s dishes, the green-apple scent of the soap hit my nostrils with springtime memory. I closed my eyes, and smiled.

Philly.

I had just moved into Rittenhouse Square. I was not yet 22. My Bachelor’s degree–quite literally–sat upon my bookcase among the rows of Stephen Kings.

It was a weird time. Earlier that spring I’d accepted a teaching position for the upcoming school year, which came with a commitment letter stating that I would be placed at a high school, sometime later that summer. In the meantime, I served water ice and cones of custard a few blocks away. I’d work the evenings, close at 11, and walk home to watch two or three episodes of Six Feet Under as I guiltlessly devoured an end-of-shift soft pretzel.

On the last day of June, I got a call from the district. They wanted to know if I was interested in teaching summer school for the month of July. $38 and change per hour. Yes, please.

And the rest of that summer, and really, all of those Philly years–strung between H&M outfits, cursing in the classroom, broken relationships, and an inordinate amount of Dunkin’ Donuts Egg & Cheeses–there grew a strong and ruthless vine.

With every early morning, and every pair of broken down sneakers, I stepped more and more into myself. The tears, the misunderstandings, the drunken bafoonery. The bookstores. The Target runs. The laughter, the jargon, the parking tickets.

The insane commutes. The phone calls. The grad-school papers.

It was all me.

I was, and I am.

With each new set of hours, I open my eyes to an array of simple pleasures.

I will kiss my son hello. I will drink in yesterday’s coffee over a mountain of ice. I will delight in the robin perched upon the lamp-post.

I am here, just as I was there.

And little by little, there grows a SnapDragon.

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer, teacher, mother, and friend.

Follow her Two-Bit Musings and more on Snippets of SnapDragon.

The Poetry Pot.

Bruises.

Poem 3. Written by SnapDragon X.

. . .

i will not stop.

the cause is too important.

among the pencil shavings and piles of seemingly perfunctory paper

i continue to speak.

i see you.

i hear you.

i love you.

and i will not give up the fight.

. . .

SnapDragon is an educator, artist, and homemaker. She prefers listening over speaking.

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Two-Bit Musings.

Dear Society.

Dear Society:

I love you. Always remember that. We are in this together.

And as your friend, I need to tell you a few things. . .

(clears throat)

. . .

Dear Society:

Please stop assuming the rules don’t apply to you. Every single one of us has places to be.

Please stop spewing out bullshit news articles that haven’t been proofread. You’re embarrassing yourself. And me.

Please stop throwing money at problems that require nothing more than time, expertise, and compassion.

Please stop labeling our writing as Women’s Lit.

Please stop making fun of libraries and post offices. They keep this place sane.

Please stop demonizing people for their mistakes of the past. Accept their apologies and move the fuck on.

Please stop assuming we are the only species that deserves a healthy habitat.

Please stop saying literally when you mean figuratively. No, they shouldn’t just change the definition.

Please stop creating caricatures of entire groups of people, and then freak out when someone draws one of you.

Please stop acting like you were never young.

Please stop feeling sorry for yourself. You are not the only one who has experienced heartache.

Please stop excusing the institutions that oppress our bodies and minds.

And please. . . stop forgetting that everyday we are making history.

We. are. better. than. this.

All of my love,

SnapDragon

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer who wants to be part of the solution.

Follow her Two-Bit Musings and more on Snippets of SnapDragon.

Happy at Home.

The Wisdom of House Plants.

Three Ways You Can Bloom & Grow, Dear Reader.

Aloe I Love You, 2020. Pennsylvania. Original Photo by SnapDragon X.
All rights reserved.

Oh! It is springtime here in Pennsylvania, friends.

I saw a cardinal flittering about the yard yesterday, and I thought my heart would burst with happiness.

And this morning? I gazed outside and despite the current state of our world, I saw a bounty of buds and blossoms. I felt . . . hope.

For there is wisdom among the vines.

So during these socially-distant, self-isolating-and-quarantining times, I thought I’d look to the wisdom of house plants.

Because what keeps them healthy and strong can also work wonders for the likes of us.

It’s simple, really.

. . .

Give ‘Em Water.

Ground-breaking, right? But without it we will shrivel up and ultimately cease to exist. Are you feeling a little less-than? A little gross? Pour yourself a glass of icy goodness and drink it right down. Feel your roots come back to life. Your body and mind will thank you.

Give ‘Em Sunlight.

We live in a townhouse, so abundant rays of sunshine are to be relished, as a rule. So you’d better believe our blinds are pulled, and our front door open. Bonus points for opening the windows for a little springtime breeze. Let that sunshine in, yo. It might just save your soul.

Give ‘Em Room.

Nobody likes to feel confined, whether in life or in skinny jeans. Keep a plant in a too-small container and it’s bound to give up. So allow yourself some wiggle room. You’re growing too, you know! Every single one of us needs time. Time to learn. Time to grieve. Time to embrace the journey.

May you bloom and grow, Dear Reader.

May you thrive.

. . .

SnapDragon an artist, homemaker, and advocate of second helpings.

Find more ideas on how to be Happy at Home on Snippets of SnapDragon.