Ode to...

I've read a many odes, take Ode to a Nightingale for instance. If you haven't read it, you might consider it: It was written by John Keats and can be found in two seconds on Google. Some other odes I've read are Ode to Tomatoes and Ode to Maize by Pablo Neruda. I couldn't even begin to make that up. He also wrote, Ode to Broken Things, Ode to a Woman Gardening, Ode to the Dictionary.

In short, Pablo Neruda is one of my favorite poets. I love Keats, and Frost, and Whitman, but Neruda takes simple things, and he doesn't make them beautiful, he just reveals the beauty that was already there. I like that. I like that a lot.


I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me
(excerp from If you Forget Me)

There's a little taste of some Neruda; that's a piece from one of my favorite poems of his. It's amazing. Go read it. Now.

Rabbit trail. Alright, back to the point. Here's an ode. And no, this isn't going to rhyme, and yes, it's going to be so deliciously random that my heart just might burst.

An Ode To....
The word delicious.
The feeling of grass squishing under barefeet.
The taste of Indian Grass picked from back yards.
The smell of honey suckle, and white blooms, and the greenest grass I've ever seen driving through Repton in March
The scars that remind us that pain exists, but so does healing.
Black fingertips from playing the guitar for hours
First kisses
Those dryer sheets that make your clothes smell like mountain breeze for days...
Personalized ring tones, because the ringing was getting annoying as was the cheesy elevator music.
Pandora. Because you know exactly what I want to listen to.
Soft sheets, sinky matresses, and fluffy comforters
Rain. I know I don't stand in you as often as I used to...but I still love you.
Long drives on warm afternoons
Guitars. I will always have a crush on you.
Pianos. If you're not my first love, you're certainly my second.
Dancing in your room when the door is closed
Toothpaste splatters on the mirror. Just another way of saying, "I've been here."
Crest's Expressions toothpaste. Vanilla and Citrus. You're so good.
Vanilla. If I could smell like anything, I'd choose you.
Late night birds that sing the rest of us to sleep.
Dancing in the street.
The second after waking up. The second when anything is possible.
Late night conversations and heart to hearts.
Cheese-its. Cheese nips and Cheese Whales will never compare to you.
Figuring yourself out. Messy...but beautiful.
Opposable thumbs.
Trees.
Knock knock on wood.
The Giving Tree, Where The Wild Things Are, Velveteen Rabbit, Oh The Places You'll Go.
Mistakes. I don't like making you, I don't prefer you, and If I could, I'd avoid you, but in the long run, the really, really long run, I somehow end up learning from you. How does that happen?
Teacup pigs. Having a pet pig isn't so unrealistic any more.
Sandwiches; you'll never get old.
Home.
Hand written letters.
Spinny chairs. I have a feeling that the adult who invented them was more of a big kid than a practical turn-right-around-to-reach-this-in-your-office-person.
Birth marks. The people who know you best know them, and to everyone else, they're just spots.
Feet. You're weird and funny, but you take me where my heart can't.
Popcorn kernals that have only partially popped. If I could have a whole bag of you, I would.
Windows. We don't thank you enough for letting us momentarily escape from the classroom, office, airport, car, house...etc.
School. I hate your test, and I hate that you sometimes stress me out, but thank you for introducing me to Irving, Balzac, Shelly, Bronte, Orwell, the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system, an action potential, Van Der Waals force, RDI's, RDA's, and AI's, and my personal favorite, this thing called creative and nonfiction writing.
Music. If you were a man, I'd marry you.
Toilet tissue....I mean really.
Old, worn, dusty, books.
Handprints and footprints left behind in concrete driveways and sidewalks.
Hands. You're one of my favorites. What would I do without you?
Running to something, or someone you miss.
Long talks and walks down railroad tracks.
Confided secrets.
Chocolate chip cookies from scratch.
Quirks: you're my favorite thing about the people I meet.
Lyrics.
Airplanes. Yes! I can fly.
Dreams. I can fly there too. And breathe underwater. And be remarkably brave.
Grace. Mercy. Forgiveness. Redemption.
Stars.
Toasters. The oven kept burning my bread, so thank you.
Moments of complete forgetfullness.
Wide, open spaces and a kite.
Paint. Imagine how bland the worlds would be if all of our walls were white...
Tattoos. You manage to sum up an entire life, moment, or event. You're like a personalized birth mark...
Suitcases. They're ready to go when you are.
Pockets...I like you a lot.
Hair ties. You keep my hair out of my face, off my back, and out of the wind, and you fit perfectly around my wrist.
Fingerprints. Serisouly? out of everyone ever created noone else has had mine? noone.
Backwards necklaces. You remind me that someone could be thinking about me...that's very thoughtful of you.
lips. You keep me quiet or let me talk, you help me whistle, you let me bite you when I'm contemplating, you let me smile, and you let me kiss.
Journals.
Clothes hangers.
Drawers.
Hardwood floors and socks.
Peanut butter. Man. Thanks George Washington Carver. And thanks parent trap for teaching me to combine peanut butter with the oreo...
Harry Potter. You introduced yourself to me in 6th grade, and you're still hanging out with me. I tell you what, this has been the longest literary relationship I've ever had....hahaha.
Brothers. You taught me to climb, to play hard, to take a fall, a joke, and a love punch. You've shared your stories, your books, and your hearts.
Dad. You tickled me, took me flying, taught me about hard work and dedication, gave me music, and adored me with quiet smiles.
Mom. You taught me that "it could always be worse," encouraged me, let me talk without ceasing, and listened to every bit...unless you fell asleep...but "loved" me anyway.
Scrabble: Finally a game for all of the dorks who wanted to know how many words they could make out of seven letters.
Coffee and quiet nooks.
White breaths in the winter.
Eyes, especially the kind ones.
Trying to explain the plot of Harry Potter to someone who has never read the books or seen the movies...good luck with that.
Making up words like Dramastic.
Saying funny words like: yesh, nay, concur, indeed, and toodles.
Weddings.
Answering, "where will you be in 5 years," 5 years later.
Saying "hi" to someone you haven't seen in weeks, months, or years.
Hugs.
Butterflies. In the stomach, the ones that fly around are nice too..but I do have a preference.
Finding pieces of yourself in others.
Pauses.
Bon fires and smores.
Team edward. J/k.
Chocolate...anything.
vanilla coke
British accents...or in other words...Bri-ish auc-cents.
puuuuuuuuuugs. What is ugly to you, I think is irresistable.
big laughs, small laughs, snorty laughs, weird laughs....
"I'm sorry."
and of course. "I love you."


I could go all day, but I'll stop there. This was just an attempt to see the beauty in the little things.