Things a Hannah likes

Things I’m good at:

1. Being early.

2. Starting silly projects.

3. Waiting. It comes from always being early.

4. Entertaining and caring for children under the age of five.

Things I suck at:

1. Cooking.

2. Doing dishes. Good thing a can’t cook so I don’t have to do them very often.

3. Getting over stuff.

4. Sex. You want to put that where?

waspstarlight:

I have no idea, but it gets harder once you graduate.

Yesterday, as we walked away from the crematorium, my dad started to cry. I caught up to him and held his hand as we walked. In that moment, something in the universe shifted and we both felt it. My daddy was scared and I, his rowdy rough and tumble daughter, was fixing it.

I’m a places between places kind of girl. I’ve been to see some of the world’s most amazing attractions. I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower, sheltered from the heat inside Notre Dame, cricked my neck trying to see the top of the Empire State Building and stood at the top of a volcano (Timanfaya, I was only a kid but I remember burning my hand on pebble I’d picked up to throw at my brother). Those places, the ones on every man’s bucket list, didn’t seem so important once I got there. Its the journey there, the places in between the places, that really matters to me.

Take the Statue of Liberty, I saw the same icon that everyone else on that boat or shoreline did, but to me its about the time in the car. Its about driving the long way home across Long Island with the windows rolled right down, making the car so cold we were practically playing freeze out. Its blasting out Empire State of Mind as loud as the stereo would let us because we were in New York baby. Its laughing at the boys, pretending to be embarrassed, but seeing the way they’re singing along just as much as we are.

Even in my home town I like the between places better. If you googled Middlewich, you’d learn all about the the three rivers it was built between, about the Roman forts and salt mining and the annual Folk and Boat festival. But google wasn’t raised in that town. It won’t tell you about how we lived on a half built housing estate and the adventures we had. The time we got stuck into quick sand mud, wriggling and squirming our way waist deep until my dad eventually rescued us. I’d tell you, not about the church, but about the little house three quarters of my way home from school. It was white, with part of a river in the garden. The owner had built little islands on the river that were held in place by bridges cemented to the banks. It looked like a model village made for his plant pots.

I still want to go to the big places, to keep checking things off my bucket list, but the thing I’m most excited about is seeing those places in between.