9k4g

Irish Soup Journal
Notes - Ramblings - Poetry - Short Stories - Art - Bull - Steve

2-28-17
I hadn't ever seen you. I didn't even turn around and I knew I was in love. It was that laugh of yours. Oh, I wish we could go back to then. Harts, your b-day 1963. I wake up every morning remembering your laughter in my ear. ❤

I miss my brothers. Not the ones I don't hear from, although I do miss them too, but the ones who have parted. I can feel alone in the world without them.

This place likes to punish go-getters and reward indolence, you submit, surrender, lay down, bring stings to a standstill. Just become too tired trying to do.

A note from you puts me a piece of chocolate cake and some milk away from the best day ever. ❤ :)

Sometimes I'm lonely. I need to talk and there's no longer anyone I can talk to, so I write. It's only February and the days are getting longer already.

My heroes were my brothers, my son, my dad, my grandpa Jackson Doyle Smith who passed away in 1961. My favorite food is beans and potatoes, cornbread and milk made by Aunt Sylvia (1950-8). Did I saw we were poor?

We aren't just the sum of our memories, we're also the stories we construct about ourselves. The stories we will never forget, forever and ever. ❤

Humans don't mind duress. In fact, they thrive on it. What we mind is not feeling necessary. S.J.

They say the lessons we remember are the lessons we learn the hard way. Then I should remember everything as I do everything the hard way.

I try to smile about something every day, even when I don't feel life smiling with me.

I keep hearing the words those people from the new new people taking over. That's most American. Most of us have been on one program or another. Did for college or something. Those people, you mean Americans? :)

It has been said that when an old person rants, it is like a lifelong burning dream. :)

So precious and sweet. You rise goosebumps all over me, inspire my awe. Most of all, you touch my heart. ❤