wildflowers grow if they are native or if they are invasive. they grow in clusters along the river out back or in singularly in the crack of the trail across the road. they grow.

their beauty serves purpose. attract this or repeal that. i wonder at how oblivious they are to how much more their presence means to me. in dark moments i will search for them. speedwells. vetches. clovers. fleabanes. tickseed. butterweed. buttercups. bluebells. blueviolets. phlox. dead nettles. golden star of bethlehem. dandelion.

easy to miss if you aren’t looking. seen so much they don’t seem to deserve more than just a glance.

but there they are all the time. beautiful in just existing. great in just being. i can’t see how hard it was for them to push through that rubble or swamp or grass. but they are there and they are wonderful. not needing my approval, i offer it to them. i once read that plants talked to were plants happier. “be happier today, dandelion. i see you.”

in the kitchen and out of the kitchen and with friends and away from friends there are so many feelings being felt all the time. i walk in some days and i can see on everyones faces that there is just a heaviness. we pivot. we serve. we try something. it dies. we try something else. it’s too much. i ask and ask and ask for more and more and more and sometimes all i should do is say “hey you had to deal with a lot just to get here and you made it. i’m happy for that.”

everyone can be better. i know you are trying. you know i am trying. i don’t think we always know that we are trying. you have so much kindness and forgiveness. for everyone but yourself.

you look at how far you have come in that rocky dirt you didn’t ask to be planted in and hate yourself because you aren’t as far along as that rose in the garden. you grew and are here. you are not this dirt you grow out of.

i know my words here in the void or the colorful words on this wall aren’t all you need.

but if we consider all these tiny flowers have to offer maybe we will consider better what we have to offer. see them here on this wall bigger than they will ever be. see yourself in just a tiny fraction of the way others see you and realize. . . ...

freshman english was taught by Laurie Buck. Mrs. Buck.

i didn’t know much about writing at all. none of the rules. none of the styles. didn’t really see the point. Laurie changed that. she had us keep journals. i hated it at first. after a time it clicked and i realized i had a voice. that the right words can communicate and give shape to thoughts and feelings i didn’t even know had shapes.

our first writing assignment was to write a letter to “our cousin.” i stressed and drafted. i remember printing out over 10 copies of the essay just in case. the morning comes when we get our papers back. before she hands them to us she says she wants to show us an example of what she was after.

she puts a letter up on the overhead and starts reading. it is my essay. (thank you, Laurie, for not putting my name up with it). my heart stops. i panic. i shrink. but as she went on i realized i really liked this feeling. so much changed for me in that moment. something i attempted became something validated. words i wrote were words that were heard.

Laurie, you fostered and grew a love i didn’t even know i had. your enthusiasm for words and their power inspires me all these years later. you introduced me to lord of the rings and i didn’t sleep for two weeks. in quiet moments i quote frost and shelley.

in the last two decades my life has changed many times. i am not the same scared little boy in your class. i am also still the same scared little boy. the world is still really scary. i want to make wonderful things and be loved by everyone. i want to only make the things i want to make and not care if anyone else likes them or me.

i don’t think i would even attempted any of this without that class. other teachers i think squashed parts of me i wish they hadn’t. i’m real glad you saw and cared.

i know i didn’t use enough VIVID VERBS here. grammar is all over the place. i’ve felt like i lost my voice a bit recently. it almost feels like starting over. i thought writing about the start would help. i think it has.

how did that verse go?

“let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt . . . “

Laurie makes beautiful art now. that makes a lot of sense to me. ...

good things are happening!

@sumbar.gvl is a new dim sum restaurant coming to greenville and we couldn’t be more excited for them. they will be opening later this year but in the meantime you can check out an exclusive preview this monday evening.

the pop-up will feature two seatings at 5:30 and 7:30. 5 courses plus a cocktail / mocktail. message @sumbar.gvl to reserve your spots. but do it quick cause they will go fast.

be sure to follow them as well so you can know exactly when they will be bringing up this town’s food scene a notch or twelve. ...

it’s national burger day? yay?!?!

look you don’t need an excuse to eat a burger but if you need an excuse to eat a burger this one will do.

to *celebrate* we are running five dollar sliders all day for $6.

you can also get other burgers that cost more than $6. ...

i think i was supposed to say something here sooner. tell you what we were up to. the new foods. maybe i was supposed to tell you how hard it’s been. how it’s taken and taken. how the tired somehow only more tireds.

at points i would try. writing to thank you, love you, resent you.

do i love you? or am i just in so deep now it doesn’t matter. if you want lemonade i make it if you want ranch i make it if you want it cooked well-done on one side and rare on the other i make it happen if you want the thing that hasn’t been on the menu for months i’ll make it if you want me to do anything i’ll do it if you want me to run around and yell and make a show and tell you a story about how much this dish means to me.

i think about my son in the ocean. the water is cold. it’s too cold but it’s the ocean and he must be in it because we are at the ocean and one must be in the ocean when one is at the ocean.

i shiver and pain. he does not or he hides it better. he fights the waves. or dodges the waves. the waves his seeming adversaries. he will punch them. kick them. jump over them. karate yelling.
i watch and encourage. secretly i notice how little the waves care. each swell a triumph for him. each swell not really affected by him at all. sometimes a wave is too big. i grab him and carry him over. or i don’t. and i let it take him.

what is fighting without losing anyway.

so i carry on. his picture on the pass. “do it for him” i’ll pretend. i don’t do this for him.

are you the waves or am i the waves? do i kick and punch and jump for you? or do i wash over you knowing a thousand of you wouldn’t do much to stop me.

it’s food i say. it’s burn out they say. it’s all i got sometimes i think. we are all depressed right now we agree. “it’s been a year” you chuckle. it’s “i’m the son of the owner” he boasts . . .

do love, want, commitment, desperation, depression, and perseverance all get called the same thing at some point. does it even matter if i can keep going forever like this i promise i can keep going even if you don’t think i can i really can just keep going. just keep going.

pictured here: some of the food i was supposed to tell you about but then didn’t. ...