i really liked your song, what were the chords you used?
Anonymous

Thank you! Well they’re a little funky, but the first one is a G with an extra finger on the B string, and that segues in to the next by moving your top two fingers from the E and A to the A and D. I hope that makes sense!


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So what about this kid?

He added me on facebook after seeing me at the fire last weekend and messaged me this: 
“Hey, I remembered you from the fire the other night and thought you were cute, so I figured I would say hi!”

I love that. I love that he was straight forward, honest and to the point. He wasn’t afraid to tell me that he found me attractive enough to find me. 
 He seems motivated and intelligent from the conversations that we’ve had and he’s pretty damn cute to boot.
 The hitch? He’s five years older than me. 
And I don’t know if I should let that get in the way of what ever might happen. Do I say fuck what society says and date him? Do I listen to my mother who’s told me that ‘guys of that age have certain expectations’?
At this point in my life I don’t think I could date someone who wasn’t more than two years older than me just because I feel so much more mature than guys my age, but is five years pushing it?
 Even though I hate to admit it, I would be afraid of the judgements that would come my way; from my siblings, probably my friends, and the community when they found out I was dating a 22 year-old.
 But I live on the premiss of not letting fear get in the way of living so shouldn’t I just go for it? Why would I let someone potentially great get away from me because I’m afraid of someone judging me?
I don’t fucking know. Maybe he’ll elope to Vegas with another girl and I won’t have to worry about it.  

It was just another day

Dinner at my aunt and uncle’s; laughter, music, and lots of good food.
I was driving home past the Bush’s cow field, the park, through the cross roads and past the cemetery.
The fact that it was Memorial day weekend hadn’t really effected me, sure it means more tourists, three times as much traffic, and the smell of charcoal barbecues sat like a cloud overtop everything. 
But just seeing all the flags staked out beside the graves made me tear up.
My eyes flashed off the road to look at where my Grandpa is buried, when was the last time I visited him? Had anyone cleaned the moss from around his headstone? My throat started closing as emotions welled up. What kind of a granddaughter am I? 
I rolled on past the graveyard and down the hill and said a silent thank you.
I don’t know who I was thanking, our troops, our ancestors, my family, who knows.
But thank you.