xieurx chronicles

life is an adventure. wherever and whoever you may be. i'm a wife. a mother. a child. a daughter. i like old movies and the old alternative rock songs, which are now considered mainstream because they're old. i like to travel. i like unique stories. i like to run, but i'm utterly surprised by the high prices of running shoes these days. i used to write. i used to row. i used to hike mountains and play ultimate frisbee. i used to do a lot of other things, but i'm still who i am. i'm a person. just like you.

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“The heart will break and yet brokenly live on…”

- quote from Lord Byron’s “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage”

- Ending quote from Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein movie.

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“Stories never die.

Tell them.”

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Quietly by Becky Hemsley

I missed you quietly today. So quietly that no one noticed. I missed you as I climbed out of bed and as I brushed my teeth; when I waited at the lights on the drive into work and as I heard the rai…

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Sometimes.

Random song lyrics.

Random poetry.

Random Neruda.

“I remembered you with my soul clenched

in that sadness of mine that you know.”

I remember you.

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On Memories and Remembering The Ones Who Left

I was listening to an audiobook, and these lines struck me. I had to look up the text.

Ellison Webderland: Paladin of the Lost Hour

"I feel something like that, Billy. I'm not afraid to go, but I don't want to leave Minna entirely. The times I spend with her, talking to her, well, it gives me the feeling we're still in touch. When I go, that's the end of Minna. She'll be well and truly dead. We never had any children, almost everyone who knew us is gone, no relatives. And we never did anything important that anyone would put in a record book, so that's the end of us. For me, I don't mind; but I wish there was someone who knew about Minna . . .she was a remarkable person."

So Billy said, "Tell me. I'll remember for you."

Memories in no particular order. Some as strong as ropes that could pull the ocean ashore. Some that shimmered and swayed in the faintest breeze like spiderwebs. The entire person, all the little movements, that dimple that appeared when she was amused at something foolish he had said. Their youth together, their love, the procession of their days toward middle age. The small cheers and the pain of dreams never realized. So much about him, as he spoke of her. His voice soft and warm and filled with a longing so deep and true that he had to stop frequently because the words broke and would not come out till he had thought away some of the passion. He thought of her and was glad. He had gathered her together, all her dowry of love and taking care of him, her clothes and the way she wore them, her favorite knickknacks, a few clever remarks: and he packed it all up and delivered it to a new repository.

The very old man gave Minna to Billy Kinetta for safekeeping.

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Wait for It

Something that plays in my mind when I remember the loved ones who have passed on.

“Death doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway We rise and we fall and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm still alive When everyone who loves me has died I'm willing to wait for it (Wait for it) I'm willing to wait for it”

“Wait for It” Soundtrack from the musical Hamilton

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Stick Season

“And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose”

“Stick Season” Noah Kahan

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Soar

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Lovely flowers

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Happy that I can now borrow books! #sloughhouse #slowhorses #appletv

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Another ice cream post. Danish delight - 2 scoops of Devon vanilla ice cream on a freshly baked cone, with fresh whipped cream and chocolate syrup topping

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On Art: Becoming

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raro ice cream on soft buttery croissant

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Rainbow!