When it Rings Will You Answer?

One and One and One is Three

Posts Tagged ‘halmark moments

i love you

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there have been seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, even years/ i’ve prayed to a god that i don’t even believe in/ for a new brain/one that isn’t broken/ one that makes me think like everyone else/one that makes me feel like everyone else/one that doesn’t hurt my heart/one that reminds me to breathe/but when i’m feeling my lowest/when i’m praying my hardest/i only have to think of you/if whatever god i had been praying to had answered/i wouldn’t have been where i was/i wouldn’t have been who i was/who i am/i wouldn’t have met you/and i’d only be praying harder/to find you/to hold you/to love you like i do


Written by josiahh

January 16, 2015 at 11:19 PM

She Loves You Yeah Yeah Yeah

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He loved her, this much he knew, but the depths to which he did, not even he could comprehend. Her smile lit his entire world. He knew its detail right down to the spots she had damaged from grinding her teeth in her sleep. He loved those spots the most. He was enamoured with every last one of her flaws. He never saw them as flaws. He only saw them as parts of a whole. He saw them as what made her, her.

Her insecurities were rampant. She found accepting such unconditional love a difficult thing to do. She thought him a fool for loving a wreck like her, but oh, how she loved him too. His childlike optimism fuelled her on a daily basis. No matter how dire the situation, he found the silver lining and never let her fall back into her old habit of running away and hiding.

A leaky roof meant a closer connection to nature. She scoffed. When that leak turned into a hole, he praised the lord for providing them with a skylight. She cried, but inside smiled at his effort. Things like not having enough money for a nice vacation simply meant they’d get to spend more time with friends and family. She didn’t particularly like her family, but figured his was okay enough. He was her rock. She was his life.

The day he asked her to marry him came as a shock to no one but her. They’d never discussed marriage, and although she loved him more than anyone she ever had or ever could, she had never once in her life considered marriage a viable option. She was flabbergasted and annoyed with him for the sudden monkey wrench. She said no. She moved out the next day.

He drank himself to sleep nearly every night for a month. One night he had run out of Scotch, so he decided to leave the apartment and go to the corner store. He was still drunk from the previous twenty-seven bottles and hadn’t seen the light had turned red. He stepped out onto the road and was struck by car. He was rushed to the hospital immediately.

Later that evening, she walked into the room and sat by his side. She called him a stupid fool. She told him that she hadn’t slept that entire month. All she could do was relive the moment of his proposal over and over in her head and scream YES as loud as she could instead of no. When he awoke and saw her there at his side, the first words out of his mouth were once again a proposal.

This time she said yes.

DAY FOURTEEN – “Instructions to a Simple Task”

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Danny sat in the middle of  an uncomfortable couch located at the front of the office. It was leather and looked beautiful. She figured it must have cost an awful lot but it was also rock solid. She felt as though she were sat on a slab of marble. She flipped through an old copy of NOW Magazine before putting it down and retreating into her own head. She was nervous. She was anxious. She was petrified of what was about to happen. It was a simple job interview but she needed it badly. To say Danny had been struggling this past year would be understatement. She’d fallen backward into old patterns after losing her job to “cutbacks” and a “bad economy.”

“People just don’t read anymore,” her former editor told her as he rubbed her lower back. “I have to make some difficult decisions when it comes to our writing staff. It’s come down to you and TJ and I need to know that you’re willing to go the extra mile.” His hand remained on her lower back. “Are you willing to go that extra mile, Danny?” Danny felt her skin crawl. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Here she stood, her livelihood on the line and this man she’d once respected attempting to parlay that into some sort of sexual advantage. Danny walked out of her former editor’s office that day and never looked back. From the office she went straight to the bar and also never looked back.  She regretted not reporting her harasser to the police, or the very least, to the owners of the newspaper. There was still time, she thought. Karma will get that man. I will make sure of that.

Danny spent the majority of her time drinking and arguing with different strangers in different dark rooms. She joked with them all that she was a walking cliché; an out of work writer that drinks too much and writes too little. She’d woken up one morning in the apartment of one of those strangers, splitting headache and no memory of what had happened. She decided then that she had had enough.

The interview was with an upstart blogging website called, “RISE.” It dealt largely in politics but also dabbled in music, art, and film. Danny had been reading it for some time now and when she finally decided to contact the editors to ask about job openings, she got a reply almost immediately to “come in and chat.”

She hoped to hell that there was a woman in that room waiting for her. She then began to get upset that she felt she had to hope that. Once again her nerves were taking over. Danny held out her hand and saw that it was shaking. She needed a drink. She was letting anxiety get the best of her and felt a panic attack coming on. Not again, she thought. Not this time. This potential job means too much. She felt she was losing control and the marble slab began to feel more like a cast-iron frying pan at full heat. She opened her purse and dug through it. She felt for her flask. It was cold in her hand. She wanted desperately to take it out and drink it down. She let it go and continued to dig. She found what she was looking for. It was a note from her father that she’d carried with her since she was thirteen. It contained the simplest of instructions that always seemed to help her. All it said was, Remember to breathe, kiddo. I love you. Danny took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Danny?” She heard a voice call. Danny looked up and smiled.

“That’s me.”

“Come on back, Danny. Let’s find out if you’re ready to Rise.”

DAY FOUR – “An Unlikely Candy”

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Text if you can’t read it:

There once was a small jellybean named J.B.
J.B. went to Sugar High with the rest of his Candy friends.
His best friend was Henry the chocolate bar.
J.B. and Henry did everything together.
One day a new student came to Sugar High.
She was an apple named Motts.
The rest of the candy made fun of Motts.
They called her fruit and told her she wasn’t candy.
But J.B. And Henry came to her defense.
They reminded everyone that apples had plenty of natural sugars.
So Motts was as candy as the rest.
Now J.B. And Henry have a new best friend!
The end.

I Want to Hold Your Hand

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“What is it exactly that you want from me? Dating? Because I have to be honest, I don’t really do the whole somebody’s girlfriend thing.”

“Dating? Girlfriend? No! I just want to hang out with you. Lots.  I want to get to know everything I can about you. I want to know what you love. I want to know what you hate. I want to know what words make your nose crinkle. I want to know what makes you smile so that I can be the person who does that thing that makes you smile. I want to maybe one day try to kiss you and hope that you kiss back.”

“That sounds to me like a fairly unerring definition of dating.”

“That’s crazy talk. I want to take you to dinner and to movies and out for gelato. Honestly, I want to eat so much goddamn gelato with you. I mean, just because I want to hold your hand while we walk through Little India in search of the perfect naan doesn’t mean I want to date you! Who am I, Clark Gable?”

“It’s just too soon for naan.”

“Forget the naan! We’ll have Thai instead. We don’t have to call it anything. Let’s just be. Hang out with me. Do it. Do it. Do it.”

“I do love gelato.”

“Never trust a person who says they don’t love gelato.”

“I don’t think I could.”

“I’m breaking you down. I see a smile and exasperated acceptance on the horizon.”

“Is this how you get all your not dates?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never wanted to not date someone as much as I want to not date you.”

“ONE gelato. For now.”


“I better not regret this gelato.”

“Who could ever regret gelato?!”


Written by josiahh

February 20, 2014 at 9:32 PM

I had to share this.

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My cousin Julie just shared on Facebook with us a poem our Grandmother had written for her Grandchildren (we were many). My Grandmother passed when I was just 7 or 8 and I haven’t got many memories left of her. What I do remember was always feeling safe, warm, and so very loved by her. Reading this today brought all those feelings flooding right back. I miss her even on days I don’t realize it.

Beloved child of mine
you are loved
my life
my destiny
I will never leave you
the darkness around you
will not destroy you
my weapons are of light
And nothing on earth
or universe
can penetrate your spirit.
You are mine.
-Remelda Young

Written by josiahh

February 7, 2014 at 5:16 PM

Embarrassing Throwbacks: “One milk, two sugar”

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***I found this in a notebook. I wrote it eight years ago. It’s so terrible I felt the need to share.***


I asked her once if she was happy. She looked straight through me and answered simple and true, “one milk, two sugar.” She was lost, that much I could tell. So was I. When I asked her where she was from, “one milk, two sugar.” I asked her where she was headed, “one milk, two sugar.” There was something about her that kept me asking questions. Mesmerized and unable to walk away, I longed to hear her voice. It was small and timid yet towering and terrifying. I felt as though I was a small child starved for his mother’s apathetic ear. Completely willing to walk to the end of the world for a simple nod, pat on the back, or a wink of an eye. Anything but, “one milk, two sugar.”

What was it that she was looking for? I couldn’t stand it. She was damaged and I couldn’t fix her. I was helpless and at the mercy of this tragically flawed figurehead. A shining beacon for the lost and broken. She turned to me and grasped my hand and said, “one milk, two sugar” and I understood.

It’s been eight months since I’ve seen her. I haven’t heard from her in ten. Her voice still resonates deep within. “My darling boy, the world may beat us down and our loves may break our hearts and leave us but we’ll always have the afterlife to meet for tea and make things right. One milk, two sugar.”