forever

thoughts,
buzzing,
always,
in her mind.
she had to write them down,
to capture them before they flew away,
lost with the others

moments in time,
she would see them,
notice them,
want to hold on to them-
to the moment,
to the memory--
forever

so she began to write and take pictures. she finally discovered a way to tangibly mold the many feelings and emotions stirring in her fifteen year old mind. she became fascinated with her aunt's words and images, and she soon created a blog of her own. little did she know that "eye to eye" would become a part of her, a part she would always cherish. the walls of her small southern town were torn down as she made friends across the country and across the world through her blog. the world of blogging introduced a sense of self-worth and confidence in her, and it carried her through her high school years. she is now forever grateful.

Words cannot describe the emotion filling me as I write my closing post for "Eye to Eye." I am forever indebted to the wonderfully talented people I have met and learned from through this blog. The constant support, comments, encouragement that many of you have given me from the beginning have been invaluable throughout my growing up process. I smile every time I think of my first posts and how much my writing and photography styles have evolved since-- and I have every one of you to thank for it. I largely regret not having been present in this space for so long. Who knew senior year could be so time consuming? Despite my absence here, I have thought of my fellow bloggers constantly, and I still read your blogs regularly. I could never express my awe of the talent of all you bloggers— your endless creativity has been my example all these years. I will carry the acceptance, warmth and true friendship that you all have shown me throughout the rest of my life. Thank you forever for taking in the shy and small-town girl you knew as "suzyQ" and being so influential in her development as a young adult. Because you all believed in me, I am who I am today.

I am closing this place so dear to me because it has finally completed its purpose of fostering my high school years. As I am upon graduation and then entering college in the fall, I feel it's time to say good-bye to "Eye to Eye." I will be back in the blogging world one day-- I promise. I could never leave this special atmosphere forever. In the meantime, please check for my occasional posts on Shutter Sisters!

I have cherished this experience so greatly, and you all will always have a warm and fuzzy place in my heart. I love all of you, and I thank you forever and ever and ever.

xo
Suzanna

The Rush

She’s there,
On the tip of a steep cliff,
Playfully dangling her toes off the edge.
She could take five comfortable steps back,
And be safe again-
But she’s tired of safe.

For she craves the fall.
She craves the wind rushing around her,
Filling her lungs
and bringing goose bumps to her arms.
Although she loves the soft landing behind her,
It is the thrill she seeks,
Knowing that as soon as the cliff beneath her crumbles,
Her life begins.

Her life-
Her own.
The cliff of her childhood will soon be gone,
And she sits,
Looking over the edge,
Seeing the rush of the fall-
The rush of her life,
And she is tempted to jump,
To leap into the possibilities almost in reach of her dangling toes.
Who will I meet?
Where will I be?
What will I become?
The constant itch of these questions lies in her bones,
For she knows she must wait for answers.
Wait.
Wait.

And soon-
She remembers her soft landing,
It is not quite finished yet.
She goes back to basking in her final moments in the comfort,
In the familiar…

But her strive for the wind,
for the fall,
for the rush,
is always in the back of her mind.
She’s ready for her new life to begin.

**cross-posted at Shutter Sisters

cling

to family, she clings.

family held her together-

through harsh eyes,

judging voices,

and distant friends-

it was always constant,

stable.

without family, she thought,

i will shatter.

one day, though,

it stumbled-

was no longer sturdy.

and yet,

still she stood.

she was stronger than she thought.

growing old

he's engaged in normal conversation,
like every visit they share.
they've come regularly since days of bare feet and braids,
since days of excited footsteps pattering on tile.
now they sit,
texting on their phones as he talks to the tops of their heads.
they nod and say the right things,
always leaving him with an emptiness-
he sees his age in their eyes.
they go through the ritual of playing their latest piano pieces,
his most cherished part of their visits...
for as soon as he hears the nocturne on the out-of-tune keys,

he's a dashing young man clad in a starched uniform,
with gleaming war medals clinking as he walks.
the room is filled with respectful eyes
watching him sip a cocktail while conducting business in murmured words.

then, the front doors open,
and she steps in.
heads turn, and he puts down his drink to take in her presence.
her eyes sparkle as she locks a gaze with him.
she crosses the room,
places her warm hand over his,
and smiles.

with her beside him,
his youth could never be taken away...

the nocturne ends.
the children resume their mechanical conversations
until his granddaughter, their mother, picks them up.
as soon as she arrives,
they softly kiss his cheek and rush out the door.
she walks across the room,
sits next to him,
places her warm hand over his,
and smiles.
she has her grandmother's eyes,
he thinks as they sparkle back at him.
and for now,

he feels young again

***
cross-posted at Shutter Sisters

limbo

she sits

with her toes in the sand,
sea water rushing over the tops of her feet,
and sunshine warming her skin...

and yet her mind is elsewhere.
on one shoulder sits Past,
on the other, Future.
her mind travels between the two,
trying and failing to find common ground.
Past lovingly twirls her hair and brushes her cheek
while reminding her of warm memories long forgotten.
Future giggles in her ear with the excitement of what is to come...

and she can't choose.
she looks back at the girl she was with freckles and an uneven bob,
then forward at college applications sitting on her desk at home;
and she doesn't know where to go-
how to move on to resumes and scholarships
when the little girl with dolls in tow is grabbing her hand and pulling her back.

and then a seagull flies by,
and she is in reality once more.
Past and Future have gone,
and for the moment,
she focuses back on the present,
forgetting the visitors on her shoulder...

until their absence is no more,
and they return to their constant home in her mind.

a part of

when in france,
she was a stranger,
an outsider.
she didn't belong there
with these people who were all a part of a heritage,
a background.
she was a smudge on the beautiful culture,
not contributing anything-
a tourist,
a foreigner...

she was eating in a quiet cafe,
wishing she could become one with these people
who so interested her.
these people with loose hair and an unmatched zest for life.
she desperately wanted to mesh with them,
to blend with them,
to fit in seamlessly,
but she failed.

it was then that she glanced over in a dark corner of the cafe
and noticed a lonely piano...
her tour guide urged her,
to go.
to play.

and after much head shaking and hustled refusals,
she made her way
with blushed cheeks and shaky knees
to the dark corner.
and as she set down,
she felt the music bleed out of her soul,
the most beautiful music she had ever created.
she poured her love of the country,
her desire to be of the people,
and her yearning to possess the energy around her,
into every chord.

and as she looked around,
they noticed her...
these people who inspired her,
these people whom she wanted so badly to connect with.
and for the first time since her arrival,

she was one of them,
a part of their beautiful culture,

she was finally at home.

summer supper table

(part of my Unfocused photo series)

clinging forks
constant chirps of sleepy crickets
dim candlelight outlining faces of loved ones
feet casually propped on porch chairs,
draped in beach towels airing dry
fresh vegetables on each plate
low,
soft,
and kind conversation
drifting through the air
t-shirts, shorts, and bare feet are worn by all

summer is its best at the supper table

light

the church she had attended her entire life
with her parents and grandparents
who had also been going their whole lives
was a beautiful church-
stained glass full of piercing color
against soft white brick
welcomed any weary visitor.
she would sit in church on sundays,
her view from the choir loft before her,
and she would take in the light filling the room.
the light radiating from warm smiles looking up from the pews,
the light surrounding the melodic mixture of loving voices,
and the light pouring in from the stained glass that took her breath away.
her church was a church of the purest light...

and then one day,
tragedy struck the shining church-
waves of red, orange, and yellow fitfully attacked the soft white brick
and destroyed the precious sanctuary...
she stood outside and watched
as the brave men in heavy suits fought the relentless waves,
as the smoke became suffocating to all those around.
she saw the lines of sadness draw tight across her grandfather's face
as he watched his lifelong home burn.

she couldn't understand why her church of light was falling,
why the purity of her church was being smoldered by ash.
she was angry, hurt, and confused...

but then,
as she looked closer,
she realized the light was still there-
could never go away.

because as she looked past the wailing trucks,
the relentless waves of orange,
and the lingering smog,
the stained glass windows were still there,
still pouring out the most beautiful light from the piercing colors,
untouched by the hateful waves.
and her hopelessness disappeared...

because she knew that this church full of light would never stop shining,
and that they all would rise from the ashes still gleaming-



and they did.









*Go here to see my documented experience of my church fire

it endures

in young age,
he would lead,
she would follow close behind.
she would lean against his firm shoulder,
feeling secure underneath his sure stature.
he would take care of all duties non-domestic;
she would flawlessly cover the domestic ones.
he would strongly make the major decisions for the family,
always backed by her encouraging words,
and filled with plenty of her input, of course.
he was the leader of dinner conversations,
adding in witty and charming comments and making her laugh adoringly.
he took care of her-
she was safe in his arms.

in older age,
she leads,
holding out her hand for him to follow behind.
she masterfully handles all household duties
and makes all decisions-
without a complaint.
she leads all dinner discussions,
carefully repeating important comments to his silent ear.
she takes care of him-
he is safe in her arms...

and although she is now his caretaker,
she still leans against his sure shoulder;
he still grabs her hand with love.
he still makes charming comments,
and she still laughs adoringly.
a proud love still shines in her eyes...

because she'll always be safe in his arms.

unfocused

taking pictures,
she's frustrated.
she sees the moment,
knows what she wants to capture,
but never turning it out quite right...

the lighting is rough,
the focus is all wrong.
all she wants is to portray life-
the life she loves.
the life that is hers.

she soon begins to realize
that these failed pictures,
these pictures that could never amount to anything-
are real.
the blur of the lens

is everything she has been searching for.

I'm starting a project, "Unfocused: A Photo Series," because the unfocused, minimal quality, imperfect and outcast pictures are... who I am.

This is real. This is me. Won't you come along?

*Click the Unfocused tab in the left column for my growing collection

life

as she walked down the streets,
she breathed,
taking in all the smells around her...
the smells of dying cigarettes,
fresh bread,
sweets and perfumes.

she opened her eyes,
seeing the slow,
wonderful pace of the people around her,
the simple enjoyment of everyday life,
the humble, hard-working spirit ingrained into the society.

she perked her ears,
and heard the sounds of children laughing,
of melodic sentences in French tongue,
and of musical smatterings mixing together from musicians housed on different street corners.

and as she lingered slowly,
she felt an urge.
an urge to stay...
to appreciate life,
to grab hold of the rich culture,
to open herself up to the sincere happiness of these people.


and she began to live...

France brought her to life.

she stares

as arms constantly reach across her,
scheduling this and scheduling that,
she stares.

she stares at the blur of a life passing her by.
at piano lessons, tennis practices, and dance recitals.
at essays, tests, and meetings.
she stares.

as if she is sitting in the passenger seat,
gazing out the window
and growing yet another day older,
she stares.

but then something happens...
glimmers of light begin to pierce the black and white.
her purpose and blooming future become clear once more.
the arms reaching across her now pull her into an embrace,
and warmth and love fill her soul once more.

and then she stares no longer...

for she sees.

her dress

she wore this dress in college.
it's still his favorite dress...

her thin, sunned legs dance across the floor.
she smiles and freckles glisten across her face.
her manicured nails wave as she socializes across the room.
her grace, class, and poise are undeniable.
her fox trot is flawless.
all eyes follow her laugh,
her perfect laugh.
the chandelier lights dance across her shining dress.

she makes her way toward the dark end of the room.
he, her stern grandfather, sits alone.
the light follows her kind walk.

and with a sparkle in her eyes, she asks him to dance.
he sets down his cane,
takes one last sip of his lonesome cocktail,
and joins her.
and then all eyes are on the lucky man.

because as she leads him in a flawless fox trot,

he smiles.
and with her shine,

he is glowing.

the lonely

independent, she is.
the quietness of being alone draws her in.
the stillness, it comforts her,
beckoning her to come...
to push others away.

but the stillness becomes painful,
deafening.
with tears streaming down her face,
she realizes this world she has created is...
lonely.
the lonely consumes her,
sending chills down her spine.
the lonely rings in her ears like a siren.

the lonely is calling her no more.

Those girls on the roof

(Caroline, Elizabeth, Taylar)

Here's a post about those girls on the roof from my Shuttersisters post...



Elizabeth is the filler of awkward moments. the lover of all things preppy. my hallmark movie companion. the funny video maker. the sharer of my love for cooking... and eating, most importantly. my trampoline jumping buddy. the cutest cheerleader on the squad. my school night sleepover accomplice. the feeder of gossip on our neighborhood walks. my competitor in bubble gum chewing contests during drama class. the master of making weird (always loud) noises in the cafeteria during lunch. my fellow domestic of the group. the sixth member of our family. the "sheltered" one. my best friend since ninth grade who knows every single thing about me.the one we are all going to miss so much when she graduates in a few months...

Caroline is the instigator of all snide comments. the provider of constant laughing when we're all together. the dangerous driver. the best advice giver i know. the dave matthews band junkie. the paranoid beauty queen. the philosopher. my friend since birth... literally (i'll always be one week older than you, though...) my fellow lover of photography. the girl with the sarcastic but incredibly loving personality all in one. my summer camp buddy all through grade school (she hated every minute of camp life). my fellow indulger of good food. the one who shares my dreams of traveling the world... together. the stealer of the sheets in the middle of the night (she usually ends up with a bed to herself). my soul sister since first grade. the sharer of all my elementary memories. my sweet caroline...

Taylar is my opponent in our "battles of the wits." she is the one who really gets me. the eccentric, gorgeous girl of our group. the girl who can create hilarious comments on command. she is my fellow anticipator of the future. the girl who always knows exactly what is on my mind.. and vice versa. the one who can make me laugh in the pit of my stomach for hours. the holder of millions of inside jokes since middle school. my slightly liberal/slightly conservative political equal. the creator of deep discussions that can last forever. the funky, cool girl. the A+ girl who makes the rest of us slightly jealous. the "go with the flow" one. the girl who shares in my obsession with food (okay, we are all in love with eating). the one who laughs at my (mostly) lame jokes. the one who holds the record for partaking in the most "heart to heart" conversations. the music connoisseur...

these are my three best friends. and all together, we have a bond that will stretch longer than high school as we go our separate ways...

a bond that will last our whole lives.

excitement

Hey everyone! I know I have been MIA around here lately, but I think I just went into hibernation after all this snowy winter mess without even realizing it... I have been a little busy in my absence, however.

Go here to find out why. I'm so blessed to be given this opportunity (thanks to my fabulous aunt) .
I love all of you, and thank goodness I'm back.

xoxo

Family Table

Remember my Family Table posts? Well here is one dedicated to my sweet grandmother.

she's the bedtime enforcer. the piano teacher. the Bible verse reciter. the storyteller to multiple grandchildren snuggled in her bed. the nap lover. on any given winter night, you can find her snoozing in her fireside rocking chair next to my grandfather who will most likely be watching the news or a basketball game. the best pimento cheese maker. the spoiler of my grandfather. she's a self proclaimed cheerleader for all of her grandchildren and children, but most of all, her husband. the compulsive picker-upper of all things out of order. the die-hard recycler and re user. the woman who can still be freezing cold sitting next to a furnace. the nightly Mentholatum applier under her nose and on her lips. the hater of dry skin, especially when it comes to her piano playing hands. Sara Lee Coffee Cake's most loyal customer. the fashionista. the hummer of old southern hymns. the owner of a bedroom slipper filled closet... many worn by her granddaughters when she "can't stand to look at those bare, cold feet anymore." the caller of "lamb chop" to all those she loves. the leaver of red lipstick stains on her cocktail glasses full of grapefruit juice. the baby lover. she's the harmonizer of every song ever sung... even "Happy Birthday." the preparer of her world famous breakfast casserole, always present on Christmas morning. the adorer of smocked dresses and big bows for all her youngest granddaughters. the biggest reason Christmas is always so special in our family. the cancer survivor, carrying on each day with inspiring strength.

my grandmother is... my hero.

bright eyes

these bright eyes belong to a special girl...

a girl who dances around on her tip toes,
who speaks so excitedly that her words come out in a completely happy jumble.
the daddy's girl,
whose sweet cheeks remain in an almost constant smile,
the one who calls me "Fuzanna," (instead of Suzanna), melting my heart every time.
the dog lover and cat chaser,
whose head tilts to the side as she tells stories with an always animated tone.
the baby of my mom's side of the family with one of the biggest hearts.
the happiest little girl i know...

the single most person i want to be when i grow up.

Livvy

I had to write a short story for my Creative Writing class a few weeks ago. We were to write a character study... a descriptive story of a fictional character who changes because of the plot (can't you tell this is a great class?)

Here is Livvy. I hope you enjoy the story of a girl that has lived in my mind and heart for years.

Livvy was fourteen that spring. She had golden brown hair that hung in shoulder-length braids down her tanned arms. Freckles were sprinkled across her nose, and a dimple was asymmetrically placed on her left cheek. She loved to walk along the crackled road at Nunnally Farms, her home, and greet her cows every day. She had followed her grandfather out to the pasture almost every morning since she could walk, helping him with the daily cattle duties. Annie, the oldest cow, was her absolute favorite, and Annie sure loved Livvy as well. Livvy would always run her fingers up and down Annie’s silky back and whisper secrets into her ears. Livvy was the happiest when she was sitting near her cows, her baseball cap donned, her bare feet hardened by the gravel, and a casual breeze gently swaying her braids in the air. Livvy detested the daily piano lessons upon which her grandmother insisted. Her grandmother was the most beautiful piano player in the world as far as Livvy was concerned, but she just didn’t seem to share the same talent. The dirt between her fingernails and the hair in her eyes were always scolded by her grandmother as each lesson progressed, and Livvy could never keep her interest going the whole time. Livvy’s favorite way to spend a spring or summer night was snuggled in between her grandparents in the big bed. Her grandfather’s loud snores always made her smile, and her grandmother’s arms around her made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Livvy loved to ride in the passenger seat of the old pick-up truck as her grandfather drove around the farm. She knew she would never forget the smell of her home, especially when she would lean her head out the window and inhale every memory it held for her. Livvy was an innocent girl who grew up slowly, surrounded by the love of her family and the love of the farm. Unlike most of her peers, Livvy was going to be a child as long as the world would allow…

Until that summer when everything changed… the summer when Livvy’s mother came back into her life.

Livvy’s mother, Stella, left her with her grandparents when she was a newborn. Rebellious Stella was in her early twenties at the time and had gotten pregnant from one of her many one night stands. Knowing that her drug problems and unemployment would never be enough for motherhood, she left Livvy with her parents and never came back to Nunnally Farms. Her disappearance left her parents with an empty hole in their lives, a hole that had begun to form as soon as Stella started to turn away from their conservative beliefs when she was in high school. Livvy was their saving grace, though. The happiness brought from the smile in her bright blue eyes overshadowed much of the despair in their lives.

The last time anyone had ever heard from Stella was five years ago, when she begged her parents to wire her some money, which they did in hopes of renewing contact with her. However, after that, she never called again.

~~~

It was a beautiful summer day when Stella drove up to the farm in her old blue convertible. Livvy was feeding Annie in her favorite spot and enjoying the smooth breeze that was in the air. Her grandparents had gone to a neighbor’s house, so she figured she would get some chores done while they were absent. She was contemplating an afternoon swim in the lake when she heard the screeching noise of a run-down motor coming up the driveway. All she could see of the person driving at first was a cigarette hanging out the window, but then she saw the familiar face. The face she had only seen in pictures, but the face that had been etched into her heart for as long as she could remember. She ran to her mother with forgiveness pouring out of her soul. Their embrace seemed to last forever, and tears shone in both of their eyes…

Livvy soon learned that her mother was dying. Cancer had spread throughout her body, and she had only months to live. Upon learning of her condition, Stella knew she could only do one thing with the rest of her days- she had to be the mother she never was. And that is exactly what she did for the last two months of her life.

Before meeting her mother, Livvy was a quiet girl who had lived a sheltered life on her beloved farm. Stella, however, introduced Livvy to the world around her. She taught her how to dream of the future and be excited about the changes taking place around her. She took her shopping and on day trips to the city. She told Livvy stories about love and about the horrible mistakes she had made in her life. The most important lesson Stella taught Livvy, though, was the lesson of pure grace. The grace that welcomed Stella back to the farm as though she had never left. The grace that gave them both a relationship together they had never even imagined. And the grace that presented them each with a new enthusiasm for life.

Livvy aged a few years watching her mother die that summer. This was the first time she realized life was not fair, and that people were always walking in and out of it. She had never grieved so much as she did for her mother, and she had to learn how to rise from tragedy, something many people don’t grasp all their lives. Livvy also experienced thankfulness for her grandparents and for the time she spent with Stella. Her mother’s death helped her to appreciate the wonderful life around her, and allowed her to form exciting aspirations outside her simple life on the farm.

Her mother helped her become the person she was meant to be.

I'm Thankful Day 3

Yes, I know Thanksgiving is over, but I have just barely skimmed the top layer of my overflowing gratitude lately. I hope each of your Thanksgivings was as wonderful as mine. And today, as I enter back into the real world, I can't get enough of this scene below me.

Thanksgiving at the farm...

the mixture of scents from the numerous family members entering into the house. the smiles on faces as long lost relatives are seen once again. the smell of Uncle Billy's pride and joy (his smoked turkey) traveling through the air. canned cranberry sauce atop crystal dishware. my grandmother's meticulously decorated dinner table. little munchkins running around, so happy to see their "bestest cousins." watching the hustle and bustle around the house in the bright blue eyes of my captivated two year old cousin. the men arriving in camouflage, just finishing up a successful dove hunt. the smoky smell of fire drifting from the roaring fireplace. rivalry football games exploding from the t.v. in the living room. gathering hands around the big table while my grandfather blesses the food... adding in a few jokes at the end, of course. oversized portions of casseroles filling each plate. still sitting at the kiddie table as I become the designated cheek wiper for the little ones. many slowly leave the table while the dinner is wrapping up, but i always stay and listen to casual chatter between the remaining adults. much too full bellies sitting around crinkled napkins and cleaned plates. complete happiness and peace grinning across my face from ear to ear.

i love my family. and for them, i am the most thankful.