So, Mom . . .

You know how I've always had a bit of an overactive imagination? And how our family went through that phase where we watched at least ten prime time murder mystery shows a week? And how I've been living by myself in my apartment for the last week? With no roommates? In the dark? Alone? With only a Nerf Gun for protection?

Well I've imagined about 48 different scenarios now that all end in just about the same way:

Consequently, I just wanted to get this out before . . . whatever happens.

First, when I was younger I used to pray that I’d get sick so you would make me apple juice and I could watch The Little Mermaid all day. It seemed like such a sweet deal to me. When prayer took too long, I took matters into my own hands.

Really, really sorry about that.

Also, you were so kind as to pack me a Capri Sun each day for lunch from first to sixth grade, during which time I always expressed gratitude to you and an undying love for this heaven-sent juice box that could only be compared to ambrosia from Grecian mythology.

I lied.

I sincerely believed that you enjoyed buying the stuff so I pretended to like it. Truthfully though, I thought they tasted awful and threw them away. As in, probably all of them.

Again, my bad.

Finally, whenever you made oatmeal, I would hide as much of it as possible so I didn't have to eat it.

I’m not telling you this because I think you didn't already know that, because we both know what was going on. Rather, I would just like to apologize because no matter how hard I try, I cannot make myself feel badly about doing it. Seriously, I hated that stuff.

Well, I'm glad I got that off my chest. Talk to you soon mom!

Probably.

Heather The Great: A Child's Story

This is just a short story I wrote for my nephew's 1st birthday.

Heather the Great could be everything. And she was.

Sometimes, Heather was a dancer.

Other times, she was a famous athlete.

Once, Heather decided she wanted to be an animal, so she became a fox with flowers in her hair.

Then she changed her mind, and became a racecar driver instead.

Another time, Heather wanted to be an acrobat; she glided across the tightrope with the greatest of ease.

Often, Heather was a model; everyone took pictures of her wearing the prettiest clothes in most stylish way.

On Tuesdays she was a princess who ruled her kingdom with love and fairness.

Or she was rock star with the most beautiful voice in the world.

Occasionally she was an artist, a scholar, or a cowgirl, but not at the same time.

Heather even learned to fly, and almost became a bird so she could fly away above everyone else.

But then, Heather realized she was tired of being everything.

Because, you see, everything wasn’t very fun alone.

So instead, she decided to share her everything with Jasper . . .

The Great

And to her, he was everything. 

Expectation and Reality

My freshman year, I developed a particular affinity for BYU Creamery Mini-Loaves, which are essentially glorified, 5 inch long loaves of mildly stale bread. I loved that stuff, and went through it like manna from above, especially when finals rolled around. I’m pretty sure I probably consumed three loaves a day.

My supply exhausted, I was walking to the creamery one afternoon when I noticed a hunched woman picking through the leaves by the curb. Her coat was torn, her face dirty, and I heard her muttering to herself. Clearly, she was homeless. I hated that idea: homeless at Christmas.

As I was putting the plastic-wrapped packets of joy in my basket, scenes from church seminary videos were flashing through my mind. I made sure to get an extra mini-loaf, and imagined exactly how the on-coming scene would play out:

We would then instantly become best friends as we bonded over our mutual love for processed grain products. We would go on nature hikes together, we would make a secret handshake, she’d teach how to knit, and I’d inspire her to get a college degree. Ten years down the road she would babysit my kids and our story would be on the cover of The Huffington Post. Yep. I knew how these things went down.

I approached her and struck up a light conversation. We chatted about weather and leaves, and I discretely lead the conversation to bread.

Kind lady in the green jacket: I love collecting leaves! Some can be so pretty, even at this time of the year!

Sarah: I have always loved leaves. I also love bread. I eat it a lot.

Kind lady in the green jacket: . . .

Sarah: I bought extra bread today.

Kind lady in the green jacket: . . .

Sarah: Would you like to share my extra bread with me?

Kind lady in the green jacket: Sorry, but do you think I’m homeless? Because I’m not. I have a house three blocks down the street.

Sarah:

And then I died.