backseat

August 28

All I wanted was to be in the backseat of that truck.

You knew that. I was in the truckbed with all the other kids, and you were up front, and there was one more seat left. You turned around and looked at me, so I slid in through the back window even though I was wearing a skirt and my underwear could probably be seen from some angle. But I didn't care because I would have done anything to be in that truck. You knew that, and you knew why.

I was one girl in four boys. And there he was, right in front of me behind the wheel. He started up the truck and we both held our breath. The big rattly thing rumbled out the driveway, leaving a huge cloud of exhaust and a bunch of running kids in its wake, and I felt more than rightly satisfied that I was the one sitting in the backseat of the truck, in full view of his red head, and not her.

The gears buzzed into place while he shifted without looking. A little ways down the road we turned into the church parking lot and he took it around in a circle. My heart rate was already through the sky, I didn't need any more. But then he crushed the brake and the truck spun around and dust rose like we were in a rodeo ring, and I clung to your arm so tight I must've cut the blood circulation off. You had that look on your face, like maybe we were going to die, but we were going to have the most fun ever doing it.

He looked back at me from the driver's seat and grinned and then I did die.

The test drive was complete and so was my life forever after. Back to the house, we spilled out of the truck and you and I looked at each other without saying a word. We knew we'd just seen something legendary. We knew it was an honor. And we knew exactly what the other was thinking because after all, you were the one told me to get in the backseat.

Anyhow, girls don't forget stuff like that.

________________________

     They say only rednecks are best friends with their cousins, but that's okay because I guess we kind of are. Check out Henry's youtube channel Henry Williams and help make him famous because he'd like that.

~Emma

eskimo summer

   

     There's a name for it when you get warm weather in the fall when it's supposed to be getting colder -- they call that Indian summer. So it seems like there oughta be a name for the days like these ones, when it's warm as spring and you can go outside without a jacket and it's only mid-February. It should be called Eskimo summer.

    Last Saturday my and my squad drove through sunshine to meet our awesome friends and then we went farther into the glaring orange sunset to see an indoor rodeo. We cheered for the hot cowboys like we always do, and walked around the parking lot in the dark to drool over all the dually Powerstrokes and Cummins, and we made best friends with the kids in the car next to us while we waited in traffic to leave, laughing through rolled-down windows, shivering in cold February air because it had been so warm earlier we all forgot to wear coats.

     Sunday, the church pews were covered in gold, and we threw off our long-sleeved shirts as soon as we left the building. The sun shone like a spotlight and I soaked it up like a thirsty desert flower. I filled a bucket with sudsy water and washed my truck for the first time since I've had it. It felt just like spring. It felt like waking up after a long time of living half-mast, like somebody handed me a brand new chance at everything. Spring always feels like that.

     ....but it's still only February, which is why I'm confused. Next week it'll probably snow again and I'll be all messed up. It's that Eskimo summer thing.

    You don't think about the snow that's coming next week, though, when it's like 60 frickin degrees and you're wearing a t-shirt and driving your truck down a country road with your two best friends in the world squished in the seat next to you.

     These last few days have been pretty wonderful. 

     Spring is coming, friends.

     ~Emma

     What does spring make you think of? 

Grateful on a January Evening

     The snow melted and today it was almost 60 degrees and I'm a little confused because it legit feels like spring.

     Something about January makes my creativity levels skyrocket. I can be empty of words for weeks and then crazy January weather hits and suddenly I'm plotting out novels and thinking about submitting magazine articles and writing poems, of all things! I remember last year one day late last winter when the snow was melted and I went outside and sat in the bed of my dad's truck and read a book for hours, inhaling the smell of manure from the field by the house and the tingling feeling of winter crossing over with early spring. :-)

     Sometimes I get anxious. It's weird because so many things I'm so chill about, and then I'll agree to do something and find myself in a whole new setting where I feel totally inept and inadequate, and I start to doubt myself. Will I be able to do it, what if someone doesn't like it, what if I mess up?

     ...But.

     My faith should not be in myself anyway. I'm just a little girl in a huge world I have no control over. I say stupid stuff and get nervous My faith should be in the Lord, who never doubts and never leaves and never fails. He's got this whole thing in the bag and a lot of times I just need to calm down.

     Besides, there are so many things to be grateful for. Gratitude is so much bigger than fear.

- church: that place where you can go and you know you'll be greeted with smiles and hearty handshakes you'll sit down in a pew with the people you love most in the world and the Word of God will be spoken and life will make sense again. I love my church so much. A year ago I wouldn't have thought I'd look forward to Sunday mornings so much. I get to stand up on the platform with a bunch of older folks and sing old hymns I don't even know and I love it.

- far away friends: they might be scattered all across the globe but I wouldn't love them more if they all lived in my neighborhood. (Though that would be really nice.) You all rock and if I didn't have you I'd be generally nastier. And I wouldn't get so much mail and that'd sorta suck.

- homeschool homies: every Tuesday night my sister and I hop in my truck and drive a sort of ridiculously long way to a tiny little house where nobody lives anymore and it's only lit up once a week when a bunch of homeschooler kids get together and dance reels and jigs. I've been surrounded by these people all my life but I had to get older to realize how much they mean to me.

- western miniseries: laugh if you want. But my television series make me happier than a lot of things. Have you ever stayed up late at night by yourself and watched episode after episode of a show just because you could? I'm listening to the soundtrack of Into the West and remembering those summer nights when my family went to bed and my sister was away at camp so I filled the void with frontier exploring, Indian traditions, gold prospecting, and building the transcontinental railroad.

- the squad: even if it's down to just the three of us, we're still going strong. There's no one I'd rather go bowling with on a Friday night.

- the surprises: and the beautiful fact that I'm always learning new things. Which is sometimes terrifying. But it's a beautiful thing when you really think about it.

   
     So I'll give thanks, because that's the least I can do.

     ~Emma

P.S. I'm eighteen in a week and two days! Whaaaat!

On the eve of your birthday.

     Tomorrow's your birthday. And I'm gonna write something tonight because I have to go to work in the morning and I might not get it done.

     How did we get here?

     I'm sentimental and ornery and you're creative and bouncy. You knew me when I was quiet -- when I used to mostly talk on the internet, before I started listening to country which had to be a hundred years ago -- and you were eager to learn and way too excited. You liked my name and I liked how you signed with x's. Something clicked inside and suddenly we were friends. How did it happen?

     We wrote tons and tons of emails and you saw the other sides of me and I finally memorized all your siblings' names. We wrote and wrote and dreamed and planned. One spring day I drove with my mom to the airport and there you were coming out of the terminal, and I swear my heart leaped and got caught somewhere around my throat. I don't think they like it when you scream in airports. But hugging you for the first time was one of the biggest things that's ever happened to me, and you know how we are -- we have to scream.

     Remember the ferris wheel and the hotel steps and the strawberries and the kittens and the kayaking and the bookstores? And singing Stars in the van with all of us kids? Grandpa made us popcorn and Mrs. H said you had lovely teeth. (You do.) Everyone thought your accent was the coolest ever and I don't know how many times I said, "This is my friend, Naomi, she's visiting from Belgium." And I was so proud to say it, and to introduce you as my best friend.

     I never had a best friend before you. I'll never have one after you either, cuz you're my best best friend.

     And now I've known you for four years and you're eighteen. (Or, you will be in a few hours.) Eighteen, and beautiful with frizzy brown hair and laughing eyes. Eighteen with a heart ready to serve and hands ready to work. Eighteen with a deep love for your family and for your God.

     You inspire me every day, and that's not a joke. You make me want to be a nicer person and a better writer and a more faithful Follower, and you make me want to take lots of pictures and eat lots of ice cream and talk to little boys and make people smile, because you make me smile. You're like no one else I know -- you're totally unique and totally weird and totally genuine.

    I'm cowgirl boots and you're tennis shoes; I'm horses and dogs and you're sparkles and washi tape. We're so different. You don't get my gory westerns and I was freaked out by Call the Midwife. But we're okay, you and me, and I am blessed beyond reason and anything I deserve to have you. Have fun watching P&P with your girls and eating garlic bread; I'm wishing dreadfully that I was there, but you'll have fun without me and someday soon we'll see each other again.

     Happy birthday Naomi! <3

     Love,
      ~Emma

Winter Stories

November 28 ~ Today I started listening to Christmas music. I put on Sara Evans' 'Silent Night' and suddenly I was back in the mezzanine of the Bradford high school auditorium, reveling in every word.

November 30 ~ If I could have one wish I'd wish for a Christmas episode of Christy where they have a school Christmas program and Dr. MacNeil sings.

December 1st ~ You bide your time and you wait for something to happen. You wake up, put on your jeans and clip on your pocket knife, eat a grape stick and crack open your books. You drive your sister to the store for eggs; you feed your bunnies; you go to your aunt's house to help set up her nativity set in her yard because she wants the schoolkids passing by to see the baby Jesus. You drive home and waste time watching Kacey Musgraves videos, but it's not really wasted time because you like it, and you wait for something to happen. You get in your truck and drive to the store. You buy your best friend a Christmas present and you ask the people at Tractor Supply why you haven't been hired yet, and nobody knows. They tell you to come back. You have to wait more. You go outside with your dog and give the donkeys at the barn some soft apples. You get your laptop and you sit on a hay bale under the Christmas lights hung from the cobwebbed rafters typing out words and feelings with freezing fingers while Brad Paisley and Miranda Lambert sing over the radio. You drive into town and climb up into a wooden tree to sing for an hour, then you put on your hat and come home to squash on the stove. The theme music of the Waltons fades and everyone else goes to bed, and you're still sitting here, while the fire peters out, waiting for something to happen.

December 3rd ~ Families are the best thing in the world. Even if they're like awful and you hate them. It's like a weird little clan that you get to be a part of, take advantage of, use and abuse and love to pieces. I love yours and I love mine.

December 13 ~ Also you wouldn't think it's that hard but the weirdest part of acting older is knowing when it's okay to act young. Is there a line or do you just roll with it and hope you're not looking like an idiot? Or does it matter if you look like an idiot? Is anyone looking anyway?
    It's so awfully nice to have friends that are boys who you don't even have to think twice about having a crush on.

December 14 ~ The best education you can get is driving on a freeway, stopping at a gas station, getting lost, going to church, and listening to your grandpa.

December 16 ~ There are some people you can go without talking to for six months and then when you do it's like you were never apart. It's like we saw each other yesterday and she's not a thousand miles away. I really miss her -- the girl with the blue hair and funky shoes.

     Just a few things in my little world lately. We're almost buried in several feet of snow but all the Christmas lights look beautiful in it. Also I discovered Brett Eldredge has a Christmas cd and my life will never be the same. 

Are you excited for Christmas?

Do you journal?

Do you have a real tree?

~ Emma

P.S. If you're wondering why the blog is different again....I couldn't do the fancy layout. I'm too much of a country mouse. So I changed it back. ;-)

On going and coming home again

   
     Last night there was a super moon -- the closest the moon's been to the earth in sixty-eight years and will be for a long time, they say, so we observed by building a big fire and burning all the cardboard boxes left over from the stand. Then we howled at the moon, just a little, because it seemed like the right thing to do.

     A few days ago I got on a plane and flew for the first time in my young life. I thought I'd be scared out of my wits and my plane would be late and I'd get lost and probably be kidnapped or something equally horrible. Turns out the only thing I have to worry about is my imagination, because it wasn't really scary. What it was was incredible. From the moment we took off till we landed again I couldn't stop staring out the window, wondering how this was possible, what those towns down there were, how anybody could tell where they were going without road signs but marveling that there are people who can. The day was cloudy and gray when we took off, but we rose higher and higher until the plane burst through the layer of clouds and then suddenly everything was bright, and the moon was so close I could've reached for it, and the clouds looked like fluffy white hills, like in that Barbie movie my sister and I used to watch over and over. I guess everybody else on my flight had done it a million times, because they all dozed off or scrolled through their phones. But I'm from Stillwater and it was a pure miracle.

     Landing in Indiana, I spent the weekend with a very special girl to celebrate her birthday...we went to Barnes & Noble (and I succeeded in NOT spending all the money in my wallet, which proves there's always a first for everything) and her first country concert, and I got to meet her folks and get to know her better and it was a huge honor. It takes awhile to process, so many new things happening in just a few days -- flying, meeting people, eating squid, learning more about how to be a friend.

     Sometimes it's hard to know who you are in a place you've never been to before, without the people you've known all your life. I like to think I'm a strong personality and I can hold my own anywhere. I think that, and then I'm thrown into a new situation, where my folks aren't with me and everything is different and I can't really remember who the ball cap-wearing, cider-drinking, sarcastic, flippant Emma is or how to be her. It's not a bad thing, really, because you learn, and it's exciting. But it stretches you, at least it stretches me, and it's not the easiest thing in the world.

     Here's the easiest thing in the world. When you get off your plane and walk out to the main terminal and see your mama and your sister, and hug them and tell them all about it while you go back to your car and then talk and laugh all the way back, knowing that you're going home.

     Friends are gifts, all of them, and each one the Lord sends your way for an important reason. But there's nothing like your family for feeling at ease, or for making stupid puns, or speaking your mind, or asking hard questions. When you come home to your family, you let down all your walls and everything they keep in and nothing, not a thing, has ever been as natural or as right.

     At least, this is how I felt yesterday. I'd only gotten three hours of sleep so basically everything anyone said was funny and I was probably acting halfway inebriated all the way home from the airport but with Mama and Sadie, it doesn't matter. Here's to the mothers and sisters and fathers, and brothers if you have them, who don't care if you're an idiot and if your laugh sounds like Fleischmann's old girlfriend on Northern Exposure and love you because you're one of their own.


     "Why do you go away? So you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving."     ~ Terry Pratchett


     Many, many thanks to A and her family for letting me be one of them for a few days, and to Nanoo for thinking I was pretty enough and interesting enough to possibly have a boyfriend somewhere. ;-)

     ~Emma