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cutieodonoghue · 6 years

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more than all the stars (epilogue)

summary: In a world full of soulmates, Emma Nolan doesn’t know who hers is. Enter Killian Jones, attempting to stop his brother from proposing to his soulmate, only to be thrown a curveball when he’s sent to spend Christmas on a farm with a bunch of strangers. (soulmate modern au)

rating: k+ (mild language, suggestive situations later on)

word count: ~5,900

catch up: read it all on tumblr here

also find on: ff.net, ao3

an: Here it is! The very very end! I am so thankful for all of you readers! You’ve made this last story one to remember with your kind words and encouragement. I hope you enjoy this overly fluffy epilogue as final closure to this sweet little verse.

I know it’s been super fast updating so it’s all done now and safe to binge for those who have been waiting it all out! haha

I love you all more than all the stars in the sky <3

epilogue

SIX MONTHS LATER

One of the best parts of the year is summer, where the sun sets later, the air is warm, and the stars shine their brightest. It’s made even better this year because Killian has a boat that they take out on the weekends.

Emma sits on the porch steps of the farmhouse with Killian at her side one summer night while they watch Henry run around with Wilby in the grass in front of them.

He’s two now, and with the age comes exploration of all sorts, keeping them on the edge at all times. She can hardly believe how fast he’s growing.

The sun hasn’t quite set yet, providing the scene a warm glow, made even warmer when Emma leans her head against Killian’s shoulder and wraps her hand around his well-toned arm.

Killian turns slightly to kiss her head and she smiles softly because of the tenderness of the moment all collaborating in her chest to provide just the perfect feeling.

It’s been a long six months since they decided to make a serious go at a relationship. Grueling, difficult, but exciting and beautiful just the same.

Having barely known him when they decided to jump headfirst into this, it wasn’t as if she could immediately fall into his arms and believe that they’d be alright.

He was gone a lot the first few weeks dealing with the business and getting things settled so he could work from here, and when he finally came to her again, she was afraid that they were fooling themselves. She pushed him away, but he came back time and again, relentlessly pursuing her in spite of the fear both of them feel.

She’s proud of how far they’ve come in six months, though. Proud that she gets to have him and claim him as her own. Proud of the father he’s become for Henry. Proud of how hard he works to provide for them.

“Do you want to go stargazing tonight?” he asks lowly. “Just the two of us?”

Emma hums. It’s well overdue, and after a day like she’s had, she’s desperate for time away from the farmhouse.

“Sure.”

He kisses her head again and she gives her attention to her son, who slows down and plops down in the middle of the grass. Wilby, confused, pushes him with his nose.

“Looks like he’s crashed.” Emma chuckles.

“Dada,” Henry cries out.

Killian sighs and Emma removes her hands from his arm as he says, “That’s my cue.”

He hoists himself up off of the porch and she watches with a full heart as he moves toward the small boy.

“You tired, buddy?” Killian asks. Henry holds his arms up in the air but makes no move to do more than that, so Killian has to squat down to grab him. He kisses Henry’s cheek. “Alright. Let’s get you inside then, my boy.”

Emma stands up and watches them walk toward her, smiling softly. Wilby comes rushing up the steps first, followed by her boys. She opens the screen door leading inside, where her mother works diligently in the kitchen to clean up after dinner.

“He all tired out?” she asks.

“Mm,” Killian brushes a kiss against Henry’s forehead. “Say goodnight to Grandma, Henry.”

Henry refuses to say anything, instead remaining firmly curled into him as if his life depends on it.

Emma laughs softly. “Come on. Upstairs.”

Together, they get Henry ready for bed, something Killian has become the complete master of. The routine consists of a bath, which Henry usually likes a little too much but not tonight, followed by cuddles in bed as one of them reads him to sleep.

Tonight, Killian sits at the foot of the bed with Wilby as Emma holds her son in her arms and flips through the pages of one of his favorite books. Henry dozes off fast tonight, tired from running around and playing with Wilby, which makes tucking him into bed easy too.

Emma switches off the lights and turns to Killian, smiling a little. “You ready?”

He flashes her a bright smile in return. “Aye. More than.”

It really is the perfect night. Warm air, cool breeze, and the stars beginning to shine against the dark sky.

They often go stargazing after dinner, sometimes with Henry in tow if he’s still wide awake and won’t fall asleep. It’s one of her favorite things to do with Killian, because he’s a total astronomy nerd.

She holds his hand as they walk toward the pickup truck. She catches him looking at her and rolls her eyes, smiling as she asks, “What?”

“You’re pretty.”

No matter how serious they’ve gotten, or how long they’ve been together, it still makes her heart skip a beat when he does this kind of thing.

Killian drives up past the house, through the path they’ve created driving out to what he claims is the best spot on the farm for stargazing, and as soon as they arrive, she climbs out of the truck before he can catch up with her.

“It’s a lovely night for stargazing, isn’t it?” he asks, tilting his head back to look at the sky.

He grabs a lantern from the truck bed so they’ll be able to see each other and flicks it on while Emma puts out the blanket.

Emma flashes him an honest, slightly tired, smile. “Yeah.”

Together, they lie down side-by-side, their hands entwined while they stare at the stars.

She knows without even looking or thinking that they’re lying with their marks facing each other, like they always do without thought. She wonders if it’s something all soulmates do, or if it’s just a funny coincidence.

“Where are our stars?” Emma asks. She turns her head to look at him and he chuckles.

“Ah… they’re…” Killian searches the sky for a few seconds and then points, tracing the outline of the Cygnus. “Right here.” A slow smile spreads on his face. “Here we are.”

Emma hums happily after she follows the pattern he makes with his fingers.

Even though she stares at the stars, she thinks about him. He’s far, far more than she could’ve ever dreamed. It’s wonderful in just about every way. He challenges her, and she likes to think she challenges him too.

It took a while for him to convince her to allow him to stay at the house, but after a few nights in the spring where she was sick with a flu while her parents were away for the weekend, she caved completely.

She remembers how completely heroic he was staying up all night with her as if it were yesterday, holding her hair back and feeding her even when she didn’t want to eat.

He’d had to watch Henry, too, something that she thinks must have brought them close. The entire night had been misery, but he made it better by just being there. She knew she loved him then, but had waited a lot longer to admit it.

“What did you do today?” Emma asks, turning to look at him under the dim glow of their lantern light.

He sighs. “Woke up very early.”

She hums a laugh. “Yes. You definitely did.”

When his alarm went off, she may have attempted to entice him to stay in bed by curling her leg over his, but she also may have fallen asleep before she could do any further enticing.

“I helped your father in the barn,” Killian says, lifting their joined hands briefly, “then I went into town and worked on the shop. Called Liam. He’s told me he’s coming home soon.”

“Oh, good,” Emma murmurs.

She hasn’t heard from Elsa in a few days, probably because her time there is winding to an end and they have a lot of things they need to finalize.

Killian smiles. “Aye. Hopefully when he’s back, we can get the shop opened up here.”

He and his father have a mending relationship. Some days it’s good, but some days she listens to him vent for an hour about another ridiculous thing he said or did. Regardless, he’s been the most helpful in Killian’s plans of opening a shop in Storybrooke.

Once or twice, he’s come into town just to see how things were going. She was able to meet him then, properly, and get a good feel for who he is. He seems interested in being in their lives moving forward, so she’s willing to put effort in with him, too.

“What have you done today?” Killian asks after a few minutes lying there in silence.

“I spent the whole day working on the mural,” Emma sighs heavily. “Whose idea was it to do this in the summer, again?”

Killian laughs. Emma presses her hand over her eyes, and arches her back slightly as she stretches her muscles. She’s completely exhausted, as she is pretty much nightly lately.

Mayor Mills had commissioned her to paint a mural on the wall beside the diner against the patio after seeing some of her work hanging up in the shop.

It’s been about a month since she was given the task. Weeks of planning from sketches and mockups and canvases must have driven Killian up the wall, especially when it came time to choose colors for each figure in the mural. But he’s always supported her, no matter what he really thinks.

“It’s incredible,” Killian tells her honestly, turning onto his side. He releases her hand after she turns toward him and settles his palm instead on her hip as he slides closer to her.

Emma pulls her hand off of her face and smiles weakly at him. “It’s not even done.”

“Darling, it’s going to be bloody magnificent when it’s done, but for now, it’s just incredible.”

She laughs through her nose and with a slightly scratchy voice, she says, “Thanks, Killian.”

“Everything you do is wonderful, Emma.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, he breathes her in deeply. She curls her fingers inward gently and presses her hands against his chest. There’s something so special about being with him, the one she was made for, beneath the stars.

After a few seconds lying like this, Killian clears his throat softly and leans away. He smiles at her. “Hey. I have… I’ve got something to talk to you about.”

Emma frowns curiously as he shifts so he’s sitting upright. She follows his lead and sits up beside him.

“Is it bad?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head, laughing a little. “I mean, I hope not.”

He takes a steadying breath. “Emma, I love you,” he says, “I spent a lot of my life without believing I could ever have a love like this, but when I met you, everything changed.”

Realization hits her in a wave. He’s proposing.

It isn’t as if she hadn’t seen this coming. Of course she has. They’re soulmates. They’re in love. But she’s surprised anyway, and she can hardly keep herself from containing the emotion that rises up inside of her.

It’s so right. Being with him is so, so right.

Emma smiles softly at him as he continues, “I know that we’re not perfect, and that there are things you’re still afraid of- I’m afraid of them too.” Her heart skips a heavy beat as tears well up in her eyes. “But there’s one thing that I want you to be certain of.”

Bravely, he reaches into his pocket and removes a ring, confirming her suspicions and making her lower lip wobble. She keeps her eyes on him, wanting to hear the rest of what he has to say because this is a moment she never wants to forget.

“I will always, always be by your side.” Killian promises, holding her watery gaze tight. “So, Emma Nolan, what do you say? Will you marry me?”

She smiles wider and nods quickly. “Yes.”

With a breath of relief, he takes her left hand and presses the ring down past her knuckle. Looking back up, he laughs breathlessly with her, and she eagerly grabs his face for a kiss.

She presses her nose against his when they’re through, both of them out of breath in the best way.

Her fingers curl at the nape of his neck and she whispers, “I love you more than all the stars in the sky, Killian Jones.”

“And I, you.”

///

Maybe the second best thing about the summer are the nights spent sitting out by the fire pit with the smoke giving the air a rich smell.

Her parents like to sit opposite she and Killian on nights like these, after they’ve had dinner on the porch and Henry’s getting just a little sleepy. Her son rests in his grandfather’s arms, resting his cheek against his shoulder while he keeps a watchful eye on the crackling flame.

Wilby sits on the ground beside Emma, his tail moving slowly back and forth as he takes a much-needed break from all of the excitement of the day.

Emma, meanwhile, rests her head against Killian’s shoulder while he wraps an arm around her and holds her tight.

Their engagement is still very much a blissful secret, something she’s delighted in for a little over a week now. She hadn’t wanted to tell her family because of the simple fact that they’re still living with them, knowing full well that her father will insist on them moving out the moment they make their announcement.

“So, I have some news,” Killian says, shifting uncomfortably. “Ah… Emma and I, actually.”

Her mother’s once quiet stare turns surprised and bright. “Oh?”

Killian looks at Emma and she gives him a cautious look. He just smiles back at her as if everything has never been more right.

“We’re engaged.” Killian says with a warm inflection to his tone, as warm as the fire that flickers between them and her parents.

Emma smiles back at him and closes her eyes when he kisses her forehead. They turn back to her parents together and Emma holds up her left hand to show off the ring.

“Oh!” her mother gasps. “Emma! Killian!” She smiles wobbily and clasps her hands together over her chest. “Engaged!”

Emma laughs. “Yes. I know, it’s only been six months, but…” She looks up at her fiancé and searches his eyes. “It’s right.”

He nods. “Aye. It most certainly is.”

“That’s amazing!” her father beams at them. “I’m so happy for you both.”

Emma’s mother comes over to them, effectively separating them while she embraces Killian and then Emma. She looks into Emma’s eyes after and she sees that they’ve become glassy with tears.

“What did I tell you?”

Emma shakes her head minutely. “You were right.”

Her heart so full, Emma pulls her mother in for a tighter hug. She shuts her eyes and fills her lungs twice before letting go.

“So we have a wedding to plan!” her mother says, setting herself back down across from them. “Do you want to have it anywhere special?”

Emma takes Killian’s hand and sucks in a heavy breath. “Actually, I was kind of thinking we’d do it here. On the farm. Where we fell in love.”

Killian applies pressure to her hand and she looks up at him with a smile. He smiles in turn, a gentle thing. “That sounds perfect, to be honest.”

“Done and done,” her father says proudly. “We can have the reception in front of the house and the wedding itself out by those trees you like so much.”

“I should see if I still have my wedding dress,” her mother says thoughtfully, “I think it’s in storage, but you’d look beautiful in it, Emma.”

Her chest swells with happiness. “Yeah, okay.”

She had not thought this would be the way things would go upon telling her parents about their engagement, but it makes her happy, because she knows they don’t disapprove of her relationship with Killian.

“This morning on my way into town, I noticed a for sale sign on the land beside ours,” her father casually mentions, “it’s got a little farmhouse on it. I think the barn burned down a while back, but it’s a nice place.”

And here it is, Emma thinks. She looks at Killian, who lifts his eyebrows at her father.

“Oh, yeah? Hm.” He turns his attention to her. “Do you have any interest in owning a farm with me, Emma?”

She laughs, closing her eyes as she punches his side playfully. “Only if you build me a barn so we can have animals.”

“Deal.” Killian says with all seriousness.

Emma tilts her head to the side. “Really?”

“Well, we’re already pushing it living here,” Killian shrugs, “Henry should really have his own bedroom.”

What he doesn’t say is that they should have their own, but he certainly tells her with the way his lips part and he drags his tongue against his lower lip.

“You’re right,” Emma nods. “We should go take a look.”

“Gold’s selling the property,” her father says, hoisting himself up out of his chair with a now sleeping boy in his arms. “He’ll probably give you a hassle, but if you remind him that he owes me for two summers ago, he might lessen up.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “What happened two summers ago?”

Her father gives them a wry look. “Nothing. It’s a really good story, but I have to put my grandson to bed. Put the fire out when you’re coming inside for the night.”

She looks to her mother, who stands and grabs the blanket that she’d had on her lap before following her father.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says giddily as she passes them by. “Congratulations again.”

“Thanks.”

///

As Emma prepares for bed, she ponders wedding details and comes to the horrible conclusion that if she wants to get married in the summer, either they’ll have to wait a year, or do it within the next few months.

It’s not that she wants to rush it, but getting married sooner rather than later has its benefits, like not having to wait and being allowed the gift of calling her soulmate her husband within the next few weeks or months.

She brushes her teeth and flosses, something she’s picked up since Killian’s started living with her. He insists that it’s crucial to dental hygiene and he’s always asking if she does it, so to appease his desire that she floss, she does, and in return, he makes the bed and folds their laundry.

It’s basically like they are married, she muses after tossing the floss. She examines her teeth briefly and then sighs, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

Tomorrow will be another long day at the mural.

It’s almost finished, but she’s a perfectionist where it comes to this sort of thing, so she’ll probably take three more days to get it all the way done. Mayor Mills has been breathing down her neck about it, worried that it won’t be done in time for the big Summer Festival.

Emma’s tank top rides upward after she leans down to collect her discarded clothes and she catches a brief glance at the bottom of her collection of unique spots.

On a tiny smile, she decides to peel it back all the way so she can see it again.

It’s identical to Killian’s. Sometimes, they lie together side-by-side, and press their spots together just to confirm that they’re indeed matches. She can remember the first time they did it vividly, because she couldn’t stop giggling and Killian was so gentle when he touched her side, as if she’d break.

There’s a gentle tap against the bathroom door before it inches open and he steps inside. It’s too small for both of them, something they’d decided a long while ago, but she doesn’t mind it right now, because she’s thinking so fondly about him that she practically misses him.

“Well, hello,” he murmurs lowly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He lifts his eyebrow at the sight of her exposed skin and his lips curl in a devilish smirk while he slides his palm against her side over her mark. His lips press against hers in an open-mouthed kiss and she sighs shakily when he moves his lips against her cheek down toward her ear.

“Killian,” she sighs, “Henry is asleep in the next room.”

His teeth nibble against her flesh and tug at her earlobe.

“Some nights I curse this living situation,” he laments while resting his nose against her neck.

Emma reaches behind his head and runs her fingers through his hair. She feels butterflies swell in her belly at his words and she hums.

“We definitely need a house before we get married.”

Killian hums. “We’ll look tomorrow.”

She shakes her head. “Can’t tomorrow. Busy painting.”

He kisses her jawline back to her lips, giving her a lingering moment of bliss before he pulls back.

“We’ll look tomorrow,” he says again. “I don’t care if it’s thirty minutes of your lunch and you’re eating. We’re getting out of here because we’re not living here any longer than necessary.”

Emma laughs and nods. “Okay. Let’s look tomorrow.” Nibbling on her lower lip, she lifts her eyebrow hesitantly, “How do you feel about getting married in September?”

“This September?” he asks. She nods once. A smile spreads on his face. “Yeah. Let’s do it. September. The farm. Henry in a little bow tie.”

She gets giddy at the thought. “And you and me slow dancing under the stars.”

“Mm. The more I think about it, actually…” he moves in closer to her, all dark eyes and smolder. “Tomorrow I’m free.”

She laughs. “You’re free, but I’m busy buying a house tomorrow.”

“Oh, so you think we’ll find something.” Killian teases brightly.

“Well, you’re determined.” Emma shrugs. “And when you’re determined, you get what you want.”

He sighs, “I did get you.”

With a softening gaze, she stares at him lovingly. “That you did.”

///

She’s covered with paint spots and standing back to look at the mural as it is currently when Killian wraps his arms around her from behind, effectively startling her so she squeaks aloud.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Emma turns around to face him and smacks his chest. “You’re the worst.”

“I am?” he asks, aghast. He looks down at Henry, who stands beside him. “Mummy thinks I’m the worst, lad.”

Henry scrunches his nose up. “No!”

Emma laughs softly, but eyes her fiancé. “What’s going on?”

Killian taps his wrist. “We’re going to visit a property or two. Henry’s hungry, though, so…”

“Right,” Emma nods. She squats down and holds out her arms. “C’mere, kiddo. You want a grilled cheese?”

Henry nods and eagerly jumps into her arms. She stands upright again and turns to look at her handiwork. “What do you think, Henry? Is it good? It’s not done yet, but it will be soon.”

Henry points his fingers at it and says, “Pwetty.”

Emma hums. She kisses his cheek. “You’ve been talking to Daddy about it, haven’t you?”

Meeting Killian’s eyes, he smirks back at her. “What? I think the boy just clearly has an eye for good art.”

She nods. “Right.”

Together, they go into the diner and order their food to-go at Killian’s urging. Apparently, they’re supposed to meet with the property owner of the place beside her parents’ within the next half hour.

After climbing into Killian’s truck, Emma helps Henry with his food and then has a few onion rings.

The path they take is the usual drive home, only when Killian reaches the farm gate, he keeps going. After a short distance, they come upon a for sale sign, and he takes a turn up a road she hasn’t driven before.

It’s wooded, a treeline that she recognizes from the perimeter of her parents’ land, but the woods soon give way and reveal a generous and beautiful acreage. But in the middle of it all, the centerpiece, is a cute little house with big windows and a wrap-around porch.

Emma sees a familiar car parked in the driveway, and a man stands outside, holding onto his cane while he faces the home.

“Wow,” Emma says. “This is a lot of land.”

“Aye,” Killian agrees, leaning forward to see more. He pulls the truck into a makeshift spot beside Gold’s car and stops the engine. He turns back to look at them. “You ready, love?”

Emma smiles softly and sticks the rest of her food in the bag. She helps Henry out of his carseat and allows him to keep eating while she carries him outside.

It’s even prettier than she’d thought staring at it from up close. The color of the house is a very soft yellow, with white trim, and the windows are all tall and wide, allowing sunlight to pour inside.

She can imagine a little garden along the side. Maybe a bed of flowers in the front to welcome visitors.

“Mr. Gold, thank you for meeting us,” Killian says in greeting.

The man turns to them with a smile. “Mr. Jones. Ms. Nolan. I worried you would forget.”

“No, no,” Killian assures him. “We’re in dire need of a place to live. Can we get a look inside? It’s gorgeous out here.”

“Of course.” Gold says, nodding his head. He steps away from his vehicle and walks up the steps of the porch. Killian and Emma follow suit. “The house was built in the eighties, but it’s been kept up to date. You’ll notice newer appliances and the like. I’ll let you take a peek without me hovering around you. If you’ve got questions, let me know.”

“Thanks so much.” Killian smiles back at the man.

Emma flashes him a soft grin before following her fiancé into the home.

It’s every bit as beautiful as she imagined it would be.

The entryway is big enough for space for a little cubby storage system for them to keep their shoes and coats. She can practically feel them living here already and they’ve barely set foot in the place.

It gives way to a staircase at the end and rooms to either side as they step inward. There’s an open air kitchen and dining area off of the living room, while on the opposite side of the house, a den is enclosed by white french doors.

“This could be my home office,” Killian suggests offhandedly. “Or yours.”

“We could share.” Emma teases.

They both laugh and keep their spirits high as they climb up the stairs.

Everywhere she looks, she can see a possibility for them living here. They could hang pictures on the walls and she could mark Henry’s heights as he grows older on one of the bathroom doorways.

All of the bedrooms are upstairs- all four of them.

“What would we do with four bedrooms?” Emma asks. “Two for guests?”

Killian lifts a playful eyebrow. “Well, with our own bedroom and married life upon us, I think there’s a distinct possibility for children, don’t you?”

She feels a blush in her cheeks, silly as it is, thinking that they’ll get to experience having children together and letting them grow here.

Maybe the best part is their master bedroom, because it’s at least twice the size of the room they’re sleeping in at her parents house, and there’s plenty of light because there is a skylight in addition to the tall windows that look out on the property.

“Oh, look, we could put the bed here and maybe we could see our stars.” Emma says, pointing up for a moment before grabbing back onto Henry’s leg where it rests on her hip.

Killian, who had been peeking into the bathroom, steps out and looks up. “Now that would be something.”

He moves to stand beside her and after having another look around the room, she stares at him, waiting for him to say something else.

When he meets her gaze, he sighs. “Do you love this just as much as me or am I completely misreading your appraisal?”

Emma laughs. “I do love it. It’s pretty perfect.”

“Aye,” he nods. He looks at Henry briefly. “I could see us living here. Raising our family.”

An excited feeling bubbles up inside of her as if she were five years old and about to attend a carnival. She can’t help herself from smiling nervously.

“Are we going to buy the first house we’ve looked at?”

Killian lifts a shoulder. “We’ll have to see what Gold says about the price, but… yes, pretty much.”

She shakes her head. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, just as breathless as she is.

“Yeah. I’m ready. Are you?”

“More than.”

///

THREE MONTHS LATER

There is no tangible way to describe how happy she is. Standing beneath the stars, with the glow of the lantern lights, the bass throbbing in her chest as she smiles up at her husband and dances without rhyme or rhythm.

He’s holding her son, who wears a little suit, minus the coat and bow tie because he’d gotten a little hot during the ceremony, and he giggles happily while they seem to dance in complete slow motion.

Emma tries to memorize the happy creases by the sides of Killian’s eyes, and the way his laughter sounds when she takes Henry’s hands and swings them back and forth to the rhythm of the music.

All around her, friends and family have joined them in celebration of their special day.

Perfect doesn’t quite cover how wonderful everything was.

After turning her gaze to the sky, she finds the familiar constellation, a Cygnus, and lowers her attention to her husband again.

Emma settles her hand against Killian’s cheek and presses up onto her bare toes in the soft grass to kiss him soundly, her heart about to burst from her chest with joy.

When she pulls back, she grabs at his bared arm, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows so that he now rocks the white dress shirt with brown suspenders look, something she adores.

Their attention goes to Henry, just to kiss his cheeks and squeeze his fingers. They’re a family, all three of them. Somehow, they found each other. It’s a miracle she’s been silently thankful for this whole day.

They find their seats when Henry tells them he wants to eat, and she helps with his grilled cheese. Glancing past her son, she finds Charlie sitting beside Liam and Brennan, laughing while they talk about something.

It makes her heart swell.

Hannah, her mother, and Nana, all gather together at another table. Hannah’s one of Emma’s bridesmaids, with Elsa being her Maid of Honor, something she’d taken so seriously.

Currently, Elsa sits beside Henry, smiling at Emma when she meets her eyes.

“Elsa, everything is so perfect,” Emma says. “Are you having a good night?”

Elsa nods. “Yes. The most perfect.”

She feels Killian beside her, his arm falling away from the small of her back. He leans in close and kisses her cheek.

Before she knows it, he’s standing, tapping on his glass.

“If I could have everyone’s attention, I’d appreciate it.”

Everyone quiets down, turning their attention to her husband. Emma looks up at him, eyes slightly narrowed.

He smiles, looking down at her after a moment. “I wanted to just thank everyone for being here today. It means a lot to us.”

Emma nods in agreement.

“Ah… I also wanted to talk a little bit about the nature of soulmates. I know, it’s a touchy subject, but… coming from a skeptic, I think I might have an interesting perspective on it.”

Killian stares at her and Henry, his gaze softening. “When I was a teenager, I met someone who was my match. It was perfect in almost every way, up until the day she passed away six months after the fact.”

A hush falls over the crowd, sadness having tinted his tone.

“I didn’t believe I could fall in love after that. Not deeply. Not truly.” Killian shakes his head. “The idea of soulmates became as silly as a fairytale. I hated the idea of having a soulmate after what had happened. I thought she was it for me. Nothing could replace her in my heart.”

Killian’s jaw clenches and he pauses. “Nine months ago, I came to Storybrooke trying to stop Liam from proposing to and ultimately marrying his soulmate, Elsa.”

Some scattered laughter bounces up into the atmosphere.

“Aye. Silly, isn’t it? Married within a few days of arriving to town.” Killian shakes his head. “I practically didn’t try at all.”

Emma laughs this time, smiling up at him. He clears his throat.

“But what I didn’t know, coming here, was that I’d end up having to stay on this very farm, with the Nolan’s during Christmas. All of us, jammed into this tiny farmhouse in the middle of winter.”

He tosses a hand up at the house behind them and smiles. “They showed me something I’d never really had before: a family. They took me in as one of their own and never asked questions. Even gave me gifts on Christmas day.”

He looks over at her parents, now standing together, arms around each other.

“One of the first conversations I’d had with Emma was about the validity of soulmates. How neither of us believed in them. We both had our reasons. And I know we weren’t looking for love, not desperately, but… every time I looked at her, I had a feeling. It pulled at me until I’d speak to her, and even then it was never enough. I felt like I was home. Finally, after years of searching I didn’t have to keep looking because I’d found what everything in life had led me towards.

“I’m finally home thanks to you, Emma.” Killian says softly. “You’re where I belong. Maybe that’s what a soulmate is; the place where your heart stops searching and just knows.”

She feels tears in her eyes at the words and manages to smile up at him while she takes his free hand and squeezes his fingers.

“So I’d like to invite us to raise a glass,” he says to everyone. “To soulmates.”

///

Emma holds onto Killian tight and rests her cheek against his shoulder while he does the same, his breath in her ear and his arm around her waist.

They’re slow dancing below the glow of the moon and the stars, with the grass in between her toes and her head spinning.

Emma leans away from him a little and admires him, her fingers going from where they’d rested on his shoulder to move a strand of hair away from his forehead.

“Did you know before you saw my mark?” she asks in a whisper.

Her husband doesn’t skip a beat, his affectionate stare kind. “Aye. I knew when you were showing me how to clean cow manure.”

She can’t help herself from laughing, something that makes him chuckle warmly. She takes a breath and releases it heavily.

“Really?”

“I can’t go back now and change it and I wouldn’t.”

Emma hums. Suddenly all she sees is their future, so bright and full of love, and she can’t wait to share it with him. Her best friend, her true love, her soulmate.

“I love you. More than all the stars in the sky.” Emma says just loud enough for him to hear.

His smile matches hers. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky.”

#cs ff #cs au #my writing #mtats #i may or may not have 2 insta edits sitting in my drafts #*shrugs*

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peggyfromtheblockk · 6 years

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Get to Know the Blogger

Hey! So, I’ve realized aside from a few comments here and there, I haven’t really talked on here at all! This sad thought made me realize it was time to share a lot of unnecessary stuff so maybe you can get a basic--detailed--idea of who I am. So here’s a bunch of word vomit and feel free to come talk to me, I promise I’m a lot nicer than a lot of my answers make me seem lol

Name: You can call me E.

Age: 20

Zodiac sign: Aries

Height: 5’7

Languages spoken: English but I do remember a few random words of Spanish

Nationality & Location: American and Michigan

Work: Currently working in the infant room at a daycare

Favorite fruit: Blueberries

Favorite scent: Lavender, vanilla, or apple

Favorite animal: I really love otters and llamas

Favorite fictional character: Dana Scully of course (though, I do have a soft spot for Stella Gibson)

Favorite candy: KitKat’s but currently I’ll devour almost any chocolate given to me

Favorite holiday: Christmas and Halloween. But probably Halloween more because I love the prep and the actual day, whereas I just really love the prep for Christmas

Favorite season: I really like autumn because my hometown and college towns are so beautiful but I love spring because I love everything coming back to life

Favorite Social Media? Twitter, but like, stan twitter

Favorite thing about where you live? I just love that I have some of my favorite people within literal minutes of me. It’s a really comforting feeling. And we have a fair every year which is gross but entertaining at the same time

Favorite swear word? Probably shit, but fuck and damn do escape quite often

What are you listening to: As of right now When I Kissed The Teacher from MM2

What Books Are You Reading? I have three books I haven’t finished and haven’t touched in like two months. We, Beaches, and Yes Please

What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed? Around 1 in the morning usually

What Makes You Happy? A lot of things, though I don’t always realize that. I’m usually an “It’s the little things” person too. BUT to answer, Gillian and msr never fail to make me happy

What Are You Craving Right Now? I could smash a plate of spaghetti right now

What Is Your Gender? Female (she/her pronouns)

What Is Your Sexuality? Bisexual but I’m definitely like 85% women, 15% men

What’s The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters? MAMMA MIA 2 IM SO EXCITED

What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest? I’m a sucker for blue eyes

What Do You Wear To Bed? A tee and shorts usually but if I’m in The Mood I’ll wear just a tee (Yes, That Mood)

What Sounds Are Your Favourite? I love the sound of a campfire and babies laughing or babbling literally melts my heart

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Usually, their eyes but I’m drawn to those with a bright genuine smile

What’s something that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Being With My People. They never fail to make me feel warm and fuzzy. Also when I get a cute little note from my favorite professor on an assignment because she is like the light of my life

What are your hobbies? When I’m not in school I like to read and I’m able to write some. During school, you can find me watching x files, sleeping, or enjoying movies or music

What’s your favorite book? I love anything by Laurie Halse Anderson and really anything in the YA genre

What inspires you? Gillian is really inspiring to me because of all the work she does to help others. Bette Midler too

What’s your favorite place in the whole world? well, ok. So, I love Mackinac Island because it’s so beautiful and peaceful (even with thousands of tourists covering the tiny location) but I also just love when I’m with my people. When I’m with one of My People wherever we are, that’s my favorite place because I’m really happy. Also, I really love my work because nothing exists outside those four walls except the babies I take care of

What do you typically have for breakfast? A big cup of coffee and the occasional bagel or bowl of cereal

What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? The first semester of my sophomore year I had this 60-70 page case study due for the end of the term for an education class. For at least a week I would stay up until about 5 am working on it, go to sleep, get up at 7:30 am and do it all over again. That’s been my most stressful and sleep deprived time of my life so far and just looking bad makes me shudder. At least I got a 99% on it

What makes you angry? A lot of things. Let’s not get into that.

What makes you nervous? Uh, everything. But thinking about the real part of my future (bills, working, adulting) really gets me going

Do you wear glasses: Yes and these specific frames fucking suck and my eyes keep getting worse (my doctor told me I’d need surgery before I turned 30, wtf thanks dude)

Do You Have Freckles? Yes and it used to bother me how many I have but thanks to fics that mention Scully’s, I’ve become fond of them

Do You Sing In The Shower? When my family or suitemates aren’t home, then yes I usually belt it all out but usually, I stick to humming

Do You Collect Anything? Postcards and shot glasses. And llama things now too apparently

Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean? Pool because it’s clean and I can see the bottom

Do You Study Better With Or Without Music? It depends on the subject or the task but I almost always need some type of constant sound

Do You Save Money Or Spend It? Save it usually but I also tend to spend it all on a big impulse purchase

Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now? That’s why I’m here lmao

Do You Have Strange Dreams? Alright so I just started taking Zoloft and before it, my dreams would be weird but like unrealistic-weird, like having-a-bad-trip-weird. But since starting the med, my dreams have become realistically-weird, like sometimes I wake up and question if that all really happened

Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning? When I’m at school, yes, but when I’m home I usually just say fuck it because I’ll be back in it at least 8 more times

Do You Like To Read / Write? I love to read (fics, duh) but I do try my hand at writing but I struggle to finish anything and I’m terrified to post any of my work on here

Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About? YES and it’s just barely halfway into summer break and I’ve got a huge assignment due the first day back

Do You Get Homesick? Sometimes but I really do love my college life and wouldn’t change it

Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More? A mix but because of work, jeans most days

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Sarcasm is my middle name

Do you believe in miracles? Yeah I think so

Do you have any special talents? I don’t think so but I’m good at taking care of kids. Sometimes my supervisor calls me the baby whisperer lol

Do you have any pets? Three cats and a dog and some succulents

Do you have any siblings? A little (half) brother and then technically I have four other half-siblings but they don’t know I exist

Do you believe in the paranormal? Absolutely. A big secret of mine….I actually could, and sometimes still can interact with spirits...Just call me Mrs. Spooky

Do you play any instruments? Nope but somehow I have managed to have a guitar and a keyboard in my possession. I do sing though and was in choir for 7 years

Do you have any crushes? Do celebrities or fictional characters count? If no, then no

Do you have any bad and/or anxious habits? I just have panic attacks a lot lmao and I tend to get really bitchy and mean when I’m anxious which I feel bad about but I can’t stop it

Do you believe in anything enough to fight for it? My right to marry whoever I want and have kids with whoever I want and be in control of my body. There’s probably more but those have been on my mind today

Do you keep a journal? Yeah a few actually but I lose motivation after a little bit and it takes so much to start it over

Do you like your age? Yes and no. I’m an adult which is cool and all but like….most of my friends are old enough to drink and it really pisses me off that I’m 9 months short of legally doing that. I’m super responsible and mature for my age like what will 9 months do to change that? It’s just stupid that I can join the military and go thousands of dollars into debt but I can’t have a glass of wine with my mom at a block party. UGH. American laws S U C K

Do you like your own name? Yes, I love my name. When I was a kid I hated it, I didn’t get the sentiment of being named after someone. I finally got the sentiment around the time my grandma started getting sick. Now that she’s gone, I know just how blessed I am to carry on the legacy of my full name and try to make her proud.

Do you have any scars? Oh plenty, I’m really clumsy. My most notable is the one on my thumb from a freak childhood accident that nearly cut my entire thumb pad off. What a wild time

Do you have a strong accent? I’m from Michigan so apparently, I have a strong Midwestern accent but I don’t hear it. But anytime I’m on the phone/skyping with my friend from Missouri, she always points it out and laughs

Do you talk to yourself? Probably too much but also not in the way that I think is expected. I’m just constantly talking in my head like a constant tv interview about whatever the fuck I’m thinking about which 99% of the time is msr lol

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: All of the above

Beer or wine or neither: W I N E

When was your blog created: I knew this was the place to find the best gifs and fics and I wanted to be in the fandom more since I’m so new. Also, I wanted to try my hand at fic writing but I continue to lose the motivation or the courage to write/post

Last movie you’ve seen: Hotel Transylvania is pretty much on repeat in my house thanks to my little brother, so most likely it’s that

First job: My first job was customer service/field hand on a blueberry patch but my first legit legal job is/was at a daycare

Pet peeve: The first I can think of is slow walkers because I walk so fast because my legs are like a mile long

The color of your eyes: Green but they used to be giant sky-blue saucers

Night owl/day person: I don’t like getting up before 9 but past midnight I’m a grouch

Tattoos: None yet, but I have two planned, it’s just a matter of money and timing

Like to cook: Not really but I can cook enough to survive which is typical for college

Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 20 Give the last two lines: “Action: Today I will be kind to myself. Affirmation: This is who I am, and I feel glad to be me” - We

Last Person You Cried In Front Of? I cried while holding a baby at work because my shift is changing so things will be different and also my hormones are really out of whack right now

If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be? Any shade of purple

Name One Movie That Made You Cry: Beaches is my go-to crying movie, same goes for Steel Magnolias (what a typical answer, I know)

If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be? Cher, Reba, DD, Bette Midler or Straight No Chaser. Reba especially though because she’s going to be near me soon but it's a 21+ event and I’m nine months short of that so I’m really pissed I can’t go

Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents? Carve pumpkins but I do a damn good job wrapping too

Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set? I loved it even though it made me sick. There’s a park down the street from my campus so if I’m really upset, I’ll go down there and blast my headphones and swing until I forget what’s happening. It’s really therapeutic

Name Something That Relaxes You: I have some relaxing instrumental playlists and I’ll put one of them on, turn on my lavender oil diffuser, and hop in a nice hot shower (and the hot water at college doesn’t run out so I can pretty much be in there for like ever really) or I’ll watch a fav movie that tends to soothe me

Scary movie or happy endings? Happy endings give me life. The fluffier the better

When was the last time you cried? I’m sure I’ve cried today and just don’t remember. There’s literally not a day that goes by that I don’t shed tears but I literally cry so easy (This video or this video will make me cry almost instantly)

Where would you like to visit? I’ve wanted to visit Barcelona and California since I was a kid but in the past 4 years I’ve really wanted to visit New York and Greece

Describe your favorite people in the whole world? I’ll just sum all five of them up with they literally make me feel so warm, happy, and validated. I love them so much I could cry just thinking about them. And don’t get me started with Gillian because I do often cry when I think about her I just really love her a lot ok

Who would be your ideal partner? Gillian Anderson, Dana Scully, or Fox Mulder of course. No, but I want someone who’s like me morals/humor wise

Most used phrase? Right now I’m really into saying “Yikes” but “god fucking dammit” leaves my mouth A LOT

Most used word? Probably “like” as much as I hate to admit it

Extrovert or Introvert? Introvert 100% except when I’m with My People of course because I feel comfortable with them

Who was your first real crush? I had plenty of crushes during early school years but I think my first real one was on a school employee. Wowza I was head over heels for her and the very obvious knew-it-was-coming heartbreak hurt a lot

How many piercings do you have? Just my first holes in my ears but I’ve been thinking about getting my Helix pierced (upper portion of the ear)

How do you deal with stress? Uhhhh I panic first lol. I tend to listen to music—very specific songs that I know will drown out the anxiety/stress, or sometimes I’ll write what I’m feeling, go for a walk, read an absolute favorite fic in my list, watch x files, or I’ll just scroll through my thousands of pictures of GA lol

How many pillows do you sleep with? Three, sometimes four and then I have four accent pillows when I make my bed. Too many, as I’ve been told by everyone

Have you ever been to the hospital? Been to? Yes, plenty of times. Been in/admitted? No, thankfully

Have you ever met any celebrities? In 2016 I went to a rally for Hillary that Cher was speaking at so like…I was in the same room as her. AND THEN my friend shoved me up to her path as she was leaving and she touched my hand and I literally nearly passed out

Have you ever been in a position of authority? I am always deemed the mom friend so I’ll let you figure out that answer...

Have you ever drank underage? Yeah but nothing crazy. I just really like my wine. The craziest I’ve ever gotten was after I turned in that case study, I chugged half a bottle of wine (on an empty stomach), got bad heartburn, and then went to bed for like 14 hours

Are You Easily Influenced By Other People? Depends on the person, but I’d have to say no unless it’s Gillian/Scully/Stella

Are You A Picky Eater? I say yes, but compared to my brother and my uncle, no

Are You A Heavy Sleeper? Usually yes

Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life? Just my momma, but I do see my *gag* father around my hometown every now and again

Are you religious? Not really. I used to go to church a few years back, and then went to another church which ruined a lot of stuff for me and then I went through some tough stuff that made me question, idk

Are you a good liar? I like to think so (I say that as if lying is something I should be proud of), at least to everyone but my mom because I swear I can pull off the best lie ever and she always sees right through me

Are you a clean or messy person? My home life is messy. My room is trashed but the things that are put away are organized. But life at college is completely opposite, my dorm is very clean and organized and I clean it top to bottom every weekend

If you made it this far, thank you for putting up with my crazy long first post, and I’m sorry that I practically vomited my thoughts into a jumbled mess but I wanted to share myself with you!

#Get to know the blogger #personal #first post #entirely too detailed but oh well #come talk to me #get to know me #msr #GA

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storiesbybrian · 4 years

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No Goats Were Harmed in the Celebration of this Bar Mitzvah

Most of Carew’s friends had self-righteous parents, well-meaning adults generally respected and admired by their adolescent kids. But Carew’s parents meant extra well, like repair the world well. When he was younger, their moral exertions felt negligible. While trick or treaters came away from the Shapiros’ front door with copies of Notes from a Birmingham Jail, Carew still hauled in a bucketful of candy from their less, or maybe more civic-minded neighbors. But as the hormonal tide of adolescence rolled in, Ralph and Bettina started requiring Carew’s participation in their ethical olympiad. Carew presumed they mistook his physical maturation for a readiness to join the family’s devotion to restorative justice, because he was still too immature to allow himself to realize that their disruptions of his constant attempts to, in honor of his namesake, steal third, were not entirely unintentional.

At a bat mitzvah party in April, just after his mother had finished helping lift his classmate Aviva’s family members up in chairs, while Carew tried finding the best angle to see some flesh through all that royal blue taffeta, but not wanting to see too much lest the arousal become unbearable, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and even recognizing the feel and weight of his father’s caress, his first thought was that a policeman had responded to a call from Aviva’s horrified parents and got there as quickly as he could to haul Carew to jail on charges of private lewdness.

“Hey,” Ralph said. “Got a sec?”

Carew tried to recover from the jolt of contact, and then from the strange absence of relief that he’d been approached by someone who loved him instead of an apprehending officer, accomplishing neither and just following his dad out of the hotel ballroom and into a lobby where children were giggling at each other’s high-pitched profanities between sips of helium from unknotted, steel-colored balloons. Ralph gestured toward a circular banquette that reminded Carew of an impaled ring of pineapple. Bettina exited the ballroom, checking her watch for confirmation that this appointment was happening right on schedule, and sat down next to her son, close enough to darken his blazer with the sweat she’d worked up during the hora.

“Hey buddy,” she said.

“Do we have to leave?” Carew asked.

“No no,” Ralph said. “We just wanted to ask you, well tell you, well-”

“Carew,” Bettina said. “Do you remember Aviva’s Torah portion?”

“Well, I didn’t really study-”

“No. I mean, do you remember what it was about?”

“Oh,” Carew said. “Yeah, it was about all the specific instructions Moses got on Mount Sinai for the Ark of the Covenant and how to decorate the tent where they’d keep it.”

“Never mind that last week was Mishpatim where they lay out the rules for free labor,” Bettina said. “Post-Exodus codification of ethical slavery. Hmph!”

“Well your mom’s the family scholar, that’s for sure!” Ralph said. “But, do you see anything related to uh-”

“Terumah,” Bettina said.

“Right, Terumah here? Like, anything?”

“Um, shiny decorations?”

“Carew,” Ralph said.

“Well I think it’s a really fun party, and Aviva looks beautiful!” Carew said. “I mean, look how much fun Mom’s having!”

But even with his balls distorting every signal his brain received, Carew knew there was no point in arguing with people who believed they were doing God’s work, and that the smartest thing would be to warn his friends that his bar mitzvah was going to be… unusual.

The Shapiros biked home through the faint crispness of early Spring. Ralph ignored his son’s subdued disappointment (he was beginning to feel deceptive about all of Carew’s feelings and activities he pretended not to notice), while simultaneously making it seem like keeping up with Carew was a struggle, knowing Carew was no dummy and that too much obtuse encouragement would be identified as the pathetic compensation it really was. Inhaling deeply, imagining his family crashing through the remnants of winter, the contrast between how Ralph felt and how he wanted Carew to think he felt amounted to a level of manipulation that made him very uncomfortable. Bettina cruised ahead in the biking gear she’d changed into after cake was served. The moon came in sight and Ralph decided that blow-softening wasn’t manipulation. It was kindness. And parents always guided their children, whether they noticed it or not, and if anything, Carew should have as great a sense of autonomy as possible. So Ralph kept his tongue dangling in faux exhaustion as they approached the biggest hill they’d tackle between the Marriott and their house.

With her toes clipped to her pedals, Bettina was halfway up the hill before Carew started climbing, Ralph not far behind. Her breathing was easier and skin drier than it had gotten in the thick of the Romanian folk dance she’d been sure to explain to Ralph and Carew had been appropriated as “Jewish tradition” by kibbutzniks in British-mandated Palestine in the 1920s. As ever, she’d assured her husband and son that the hora’s ersatz authenticity shouldn’t diminish the joy it brought to families who assumed their ancestors had been stomping, circling and hoisting for centuries. But that was one more thing to cross off the list on Carew’s big day.

“Come on, you two,” she called back down the hill.

The asphalt sparkled under the sodium lights, wiped briefly dark by their passing shadows. Ralph raised from his seat to put more body weight on his pedals. Though he’d long outgrown the bitterness he carried from his own bar mitzvah 34 years earlier, he could still hear the clang of metal chairs unfolding on his family’s cracked driveway while his father set plastic bottles of off-brand soda on a card table in preparation for the spare, poorly attended celebration of his attainment of Jewish manhood. He remembered coming home from school that Friday, hoping for some rest before services that night. But his father needed him to clear out the garage so they could set up a ping pong table borrowed from the synagogue before Sabbath began. Ralph tried to muster gratitude for his parents’ efforts, mainly because he loved and genuinely appreciated them, but also because he sensed his father was testing him, daring him to complain, or even betray a glimmer of disappointment that no hall would be rented, no meal would be served and Saturday night’s dj would be Grandma Corrine playing her favorite cassettes on his boombox. Ralph hoped that he’d been gentle enough with his father’s pride that an unspoken accord was reached, one that recognized how gracefully Ralph handled the weight of expectations his father was placing on him. But, as he stood on the ping pong table wrapping a lone blue streamer around the dangling lightbulb, it felt eerily like the perfect time for his dad to offer some sign, some expression of appreciation, not only for the flawless job he’d done in front of the entire congregation that morning, but for the perfect dutifulness and lack of entitlement he’d shown in its aftermath. But, like so many of his Hebrew school classmates who had better things to do that night, this was one more rejected invitation. Now that Ralph could stand and be counted as a member of his community, the faith he’d maintained and even bolstered that his father was watching him intently for signs of true manhood was shaken by a suspicion that the real message his father was sending him, intentionally or not, was get used to disappointment. And Ralph’s response had been a private vow that when he had children, they would know that he was proud of them. And when they reached adolescence, he would celebrate them lavishly.

Carew pedaled harder, catching Bettina near the top of the hill, and as Ralph crested a few seconds behind, he loosened his tie to let the wind of the downhill cool his hot, sweaty neck, amazed by how wildly he could vascillate between feeling like he’d arrived at a given moment along a coherent, linear path, and the more realistic sense that a man’s life entailed cracking, spilling, gutting and rotting before hurriedly gathering up the filthy encampment one laughably called the self, and how fraudulent but necessary it seemed to keep zooming out until the whole mess was far enough away to seem whole again.

The trio turned onto their street and Carew and Bettina broke into an all out race. Ralph hung back, hearing his wife and son laugh as they shot, Tron-like toward the three-story house they’d owned since Carew was 9. He still got a jolt of dopamine from attributing his success to discipline and hard work. But as soon as they’d met, Bettina told him about the “green lights for whites,” ticking off a list of unacknowledged advantages he’d been granted by seeming, even as a Jew, acceptable while so many people of color worked harder than Ralph ever did, only to wind up in Ralph’s parents’ neighborhood, so much more grateful for so much less that they still sent their kids off to fight wars to protect such sacred privileges. The way Bettina’s discourse swooped in for intricate detail, then back up to the general idea had an electric effect on Ralph. He listened eagerly as she described how black people stuffed themselves into “honky-ass personas” just to be considered for a job, a raise, a clerkship, a business loan, a taxi ride, an office lease, only to be perceived as threatening anyway, and the resilience it took to go through that much self-betrayal. Sitting with her over coffee, Ralph felt cleansed of whatever residual self-pity he still carried from his modest upbringing, and he loved her instantly. He loved how fiercely she inspired him to be a better man than he thought he could be. He loved how Bettina helped him love himself more.

Carew beat Bettina by a few bike lengths and Ralph opened the garage with his phone. They hung their bikes from hooks on the giant peg board Carew and he had put up the previous summer, and hung their helmets from their handlebars.

“Can I play FIFA for a little while?” Carew asked as they entered the house through the garage.

“What chapter are you on in your book?” Bettina asked.

“Um, the one where Menelaus retrieves Patroclus’s body from the battlefield.”

“Book 17. Alright. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Thanks mom!”

Carew dashed further into the house while Ralph and Bettina shared their special “that boy’s alright” smile with each other.

Bettina knew more history, but Ralph had more history with bar mitzvahs. They were able to acknowledge this difference and felt assured that they could avoid a conflation that might damage the harmony with which they were enlisting their son to enjoy a much more serious type of bar mitzvah. But as much as they wanted to believe there was no daylight between their values and those of their adolescent son, Ralph had caught signs of Carew wobbling, lololol’ing at offensive jokes in chat rooms, exaggerating how much he bench-pressed, shunning some of the kids he’d played with since kindergarten, shrugging and looking at the ground when speaking with other adults; all normal, but still disappointing. Maybe now wasn’t the best time for statements some might call radical, statements that might knock Carew over just when he needed more shoring up. Ralph understood that harboring notions of secret, nay conspiratorial alliances with his son was an invocation of exactly the kind of privilege Bettina loved him for purposefully eschewing. But he began to wonder, Am I limiting myself for the sake of wokeness? It was an insidious thought, a damn spot he couldn’t scrub out, which is why he avoided sharing it with Bettina. Because she was right. A teenager’s well-being had nothing to do with caterers and fog machines.

Since becoming a widower when Carew was 10, Ralph’s father came over every Friday for dinner. Tension got high enough often enough that the ritual never felt permanent, like any Friday might be the last one. But seven nights later, he’d be out on the front porch in his houndstooth fedora, holding a half-gallon of non-dairy mint chip. On the Friday six weeks before his bar mitzvah, Carew went out on a limb.

“Grandpa Eddie, have you ever heard of Utnaphishtim?” Carew asked after his grandfather had blessed the wine and bread.

“Who?”

Carew looked at his mother like he needed help. He did, but not the way Bettina thought.

“Utnapishtim,” Bettina said. “A character in the Epic of Gilgamesh who mirrors Noah in the Torah.”

“Oh boy,” Eddie said. “Here we go. Alright, let’s get it over with. Come on, come on. Do I need to take notes?”

“It’s-” Carew began, knowing his mom would take the bait and activate a high and mighty tone that Carew loved, whenever it wasn’t directed at him.

“It’s contextual, Eddie, and no I will not apologize for using that big, fancy term,” Bettina said. “Because we want Carew to understand the cultural values of-”

“Cultural values?” Eddie said. “The Jewish People-”

“They weren’t Jews, Eddie,” Bettina said.

“They were Hebrews!” Carew and Ralph said in unison.

“My favorite part of the evening,” Eddie said. “When my daughter-in-law gives me Judaism lessons. Actually Bettina, the Hebrews split into the Judaeans, aka ‘Jews,’ and Israelites around 2600 years ago. So as I was saying, while other cults in the desert were trying to make camels fly, the Jewish People invented the very concept of ‘cultural values’. What happened to the people that wrote this other flood story?”

“Dad would you please pass the broccoli?”

“OK, Eddie,” Bettina said. “Sorry for getting pedantic. No offense.”

“None taken,” Eddie said. “And the chicken’s delicious tonight, too.”

“It’s just that we’re very excited.”

This is what Carew was waiting for.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asked.

Bettina looked hopefully at Ralph, who took his cue.

“Dad,” he said. “We’re taking on the Bar Mitzvah Industrial Complex!”

“Really,” Eddie said, showing no signs of awareness that Ralph’s bar mitzvah was the moment when things began to change between them. “And how do you plan on doing that? No wait, lemme guess. You’re renting a cruise ship and filling it with endangered animals.”

“Cruise ship?!” Carew said. “Like one with a big water slide?”

“Carew,” Ralph said. “No one’s renting a cruise ship.”

“Uh Ralph,” Eddie said. “Are you ever gonna give that broccoli back?”

Carew continued his studies, still hopeful Grandpa Eddie might make enough trouble to steer his parents’ lances toward a different windmill. In one of his weekly meetings with Rabbi Foreman, he asked the rabbi what made Noah so superior to the rest of the antediluvian global population? If the life expectancy was upwards of 500 back then, didn’t that mean people were treating each other better than they did nowadays? And what about all the animals on the Ark? Were they the moral exceptions to their species too, or were those left behind just innocent casualties of mankind’s iniquity? Most students just wanted to memorize the Hebrew so they didn’t embarrass their parents when the big day came, so Rabbi Foreman was thrilled by Carew’s inquisitiveness. On the other hand, he was in too much demand as it was, and afraid that kindling too much warmth with the Shapiros would make it harder to fend off Bettina’s involvement in more synagogue affairs. The recycling program she’d implemented was one thing, writing letters to supermax inmates another, and it was too hard to explain the thorniness to Carew’s mother without exposing himself to accusations of complicity in society’s dooming actions. Still, when a young congregant was genuinely curious about Torah, his rabbi should the last person to mute that interest.

So he explained about Nephilim, the semi-angelic beings in the previous chapter, who had intermingled with mankind to produce giants not only capable of fathering children in their 500s, but of building watercraft that could rescue all of life on Earth. Rabbi Foreman spun the same yarn Carew’s parents did, about how research used to be relatives’ encyclopedias and trips to the library and requests by mail to the Smithsonian Institute, and how he wondered if the knowledge stuck as well when it was easier to come by.

“So you see,” the rabbi said. “These ancestors, they were heroic in the ways that mattered most to our people, mentally, morally, and yes, physically.”

“Or maybe,” Carew said. “They exaggerated their virility because men who subjugated women back then were just as insecure about their masculinity as they are now.”

“Maybe,” Rabbi Foreman said, stroking his beard and looking at the clock.

The rabbi thought about the passage immediately following the Earth’s restoration of habitability. It was only three verses, about post-flood humanity’s attempt to build a tower to the heavens. Maybe they were just striving for safety beyond the floodline. But even if their reasons were not as noble, Rabbi Foreman never really understood why mankind’s unity incurred the wrath of God. What was so wicked about working together to build something great? Or was the destruction of a great tower and the scattering of its tiny inhabitants supposed to be a much more symbolic rebuke of toxic masculinity?

“Rabbi Foreman?” Carew said.

“Yes.”

“I asked if we could meet a little later next week? I’m supposed to visit that dairy my parents talked to you about.”

The following week, in the car on the way to Telmont’s Dairy Farm, Carew dispensed with all subtleties and socraticisms and spoke openly about his feelings.

“I feel trapped,” he said.

“The windows are shut to keep out the manure smell, buddy,” Ralph said.

“Dad.”

Bettina shot Ralph a look and he dropped his innocence act at once.

“Trapped, you say?”

“No. Mom. I just- look. I know how that sounds. But yeah. Like I feel like I either have to be in lockstep with you guys or I’m a bad person. Feels… stifling.”

All three Shapiros stared out of their respective windows at the farmland they were passing, the corn and tobacco fields just beginning to brown, the pasture sod stiffening at the tips. Carew drummed on the little shelf by his door.

“Carew,” Bettina said. “What would make you feel better?”

“I mean,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “Just, a normal party? Where our friends and family can have fun instead of being reminded of how short they’re all falling?”

Bettina parked the car by the dairy office and turned around to face her son.

“But they are falling short, son,” she said. “Even we, who work so hard, don’t always embody our ideals. Do we, honey?”

Carew shook his head, unable to keep tears from springing forth.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Well you should be!” Ralph said.

“Ralph!”

“No! Look at this!” Ralph said. “Oh I want a big party, OMG stop making me feel so guilty! How in the world have all the years we’ve put into raising him amounted to this?”

Carew wept more openly. His mother handed him a recycled tissue.

“Fine,” Carew said. “Let’s go commune with beasts.”

“No,” Bettina said. “Wait a second!”

Carew and Ralph were already out of the car, refusing to look at each other. Both were confused, but Ralph’s impulse to project certainty was stronger. Carew seemed to have already abandoned whatever that little rebellion in the car was, but something felt unsettled.

A screen door squeaked open and whacked shut. A large woman in a Doc Martens and a tattered gingham dress crunched across the gravel to greet them. Both of her arms were fully sleeved in tattoos.

“Hi!” she said. “Zippy Telmont. Y’all must be the Shapiros!”

Bettina was still in the car. Carew’s face was still streaked and puffy. Ralph was still too furious and confused to be authentically friendly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Zippy. Could you, would you mind if I just talked to my son for a minute here? Alone?”

“OK. I did think y’all were the ones on a tight schedule, but…” Zippy lowered her face to her phone and walked back into the office, murmuring to herself.

Carew glared at his father, sensing his doubts, silently accusing him of bullying. Ralph stood guilty as charged, trying to slow his breathing. And maybe it was the inhalation of cow patty fumes, but suddenly Ralph was disgusted by the dairy, and ashamed of their plan to bring friends and family there to work the land alongside the addicts and runaways Telmont employed. His hands were balled up and he wanted to get back in the car and drive away and never come back. Looking around, his gaze fixed on a brightly painted silo jutting from behind the office. It took him a moment to decipher the nursery rhyme splashed along its walls, the red and blue Holstein’s lunar leap, the laughing mutt, cheshire musician and romantically involved tablewear all waving from the back of a psychedelic haywagon. Bettina finally got out of the car, but stayed where she was, giving Ralph a chance to resolve his own outburst. Ralph just stared at the silo, hoping Carew might look at it too, and find a better message in its cartoon than anything Ralph could think of to say. Carew blew his nose and shrugged at his dad.

“Ready?” Ralph asked. Carew nodded and Bettina came to join them. Zippy loomed behind the screendoor. Ralph beckoned her and she came out and shook everyone’s hand.

“Alright!” she said, squeezing Carew’s shoulder with an absent-mindedness that felt studied. “Lemme show y’all around.”

Two weeks later, Carew Daniel Shapiro flanked Rabbi Foreman on the pulpit. Facing a sanctuary packed with family, friends and fellow congregants, Carew recited the blessings that bracketed the last four verses of Genesis 11, and his Jewish adulthood was official. He also read chapters 7-10 in Hebrew, and chanted chapters 54 and 55 from the Book of Isaiah. The pervading theme of both readings was the assurance of post-flood humanity’s survival.

In his speech, Carew got tepid laughter from a line about the flood in Genesis being “the ultimate Chapter 11.” He wondered aloud what bar mitzvah boys 1000 years ago thought about Noah. Did 600 year-old superancestors seem as improbable to pre-Enlightenment teenagers as they did to millenial ones? Or were medeival communities superstitious enough to believe such holiness and longevity were still within reach? Carew paused for effect, paying extra attention to his mother in the front row. Her eyes were glistening and he knew he was on the right track. He pivoted to a bit about how common language wasn’t much of a safeguard from miscommunication and saw that Bettina was so rapt by what her son was saying that she didn’t even look around the sanctuary to check everybody else’s reaction. Carew closed his speech by quoting God’s promise to Noah:

“So long as the earth endures,

Seedtime and harvest,

Cold and heat,

Summer and winter,

Day and night

Shall not cease.

Shabbat Shalom.”

Carew stepped back from the podium. Knowing he was a few hours away from getting bossed around by people with much bigger problems, while covered in dung, he tried to bask as presently as he could in this moment. The most prominent face in the front row now was his grandfather’s. Eddie was brimming with such pride that he unconsciously clapped a hand on his son’s thigh. And at that moment, for the first time in a long time, everything was alright with Ralph.

#shortfiction #fiction #bar mitzvah #writing #stories #Judaism #short stories #short fiction #Noah #Noah's Ark #"Tower of Babel

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crimsonblackrose · 4 years

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Paris exhausted me. There were so many things I wanted to see coupled with the strikes that was the one two punch combination that left me a zombie. After Paris I had a week to regroup and repack for my Seollal (Lunar New Year) trip to Okinawa. A week that pre-Paris me had filled with plans like: hiking, hosting, packing, and cleaning. Pre-Paris me made the worst decisions.

So by the time my flight to Okinawa had come around I was a little wary. All I wanted was a peaceful and relaxing vacation. It’d be the last one until I return to the States.

Like Paris and a couple other trips this year I made a pdf guide to try and organize myself. You can check it out here: Okinawa.

So maybe you’re wondering, where is Okinawa? Okinawa is an island off the coast of Southern Japan. It reminds me a bit of Jeju-do, which is off the southern coast of Korea. In both cases they were originally their own country with their own people and cultures until Japan and Korea took them over. (A bit like Hawaii). Okinawa is actually closer to Taiwan than mainland Japan.

Okinawa, once upon a time was the Ryūkyū islands (though not all of the islands) and due to its location the people who lived on the islands frequently traded and interacted with China and Korea and several other countries in the area. The results of which can be found within the foods and traditions.

At one point in the 17th century swords were banned which led to the creation of several Okinawan martial arts, the arguably most famous of which is karate.

In 1879 Japan decided to annex the Ryūkyū islands. Also after the Battle of Okinawa in World War II the island found itself occupied by the United States army from 1945-1972 and there are active American army bases still on the island which adds a controversial USA style residue.

Something else found around the island are Shisa or シーサー. These creatures are a cross between a lion and a dog and can be found throughout the island in pairs. One will have its mouth open while the others will be closed. The one with an open mouth is said to eat evil spirits while the one with the closed is meant to keep good spirits in. They are from the Ryūkyū period and can even be found in cute but silly looking souvenirs. Or in many souvenir/tourist spots you can make your own set to take home.

This shisa has it’s mouth closed and is keeping the good vibes in.

Another uniquely Okinawan thing you’ll find often, even just by sound is the Sanshin, or 三線. It is a three stringed snake skinned banjo. Classes are offered to learn how to play, the instrument is sold as souvenirs, and you’ll see people just chilling and playing them depending where you are. Many old traditional Okinawan songs are played using this instrument.

Okinawa is also one of the first places within Japan to experience cherry blossoms. This special type of sakura is called Kanhizakura and is a darker color than the cherry blossoms found in the rest of Japan. They start blooming on the northern side of the islands in late January and through early February which is around when Seollal this year was. (January 24th-27th) So I was actually quite excited to see them. I’ve always wanted to attend hanami of some kind but the dates of cherry blossom viewing and my time off never coincided.

My goal was the Nago Cherry Blossom Festival which was due to happen while I was in Okinawa. The cherry blossom festival was scheduled to happen at Nago Central Park (名護城公園) from January 25th-26th. But according to Google maps it was a 2 hour bus ride away from Naha where I was staying and about a 23 minute walk from where the bus would drop me off in Nago city.

Normally I’d do that. I’d get up early, hop on the bus and then just spend the entire day in Nago before catching a bus home. But I just really wasn’t feeling it. I wanted my trip to Okinawa to be an actual vacation and not me running around trying to cram every possible thing I wanted to do into my short time there until I exhausted myself. (see Paris) So I came up with a compromise. I’d check and see where the cherry blossoms generally were popular to visit in Naha and I’d go there. If they weren’t blooming at all then I’d do the bus. If they were blooming even a little I’d take a cooking class.

If you’re curious about other places you can see cherry blossoms in Okinawa during late January/ early February I suggest checking out these posts that I used to decide for myself. Japan also tends to have a cherry blossom forecast you can check. As a general rule the northern side of the island blooms first and then makes its way down south.

Matcha’s Top 5 Cherry Blossoms

Gina Bear’s Blog: Alluring Sakura Spots

The weather in Okinawa is tropical. It’s pretty warm. I was visiting in winter and during the time it gets the coldest. Generally from December through February the lowest it might get is around 9.6°C and with highs of 26.9°C (between 49-80°F). While I was there in late January while the forecast called for low 70°F (21°C) it ended up being more on that high end of nearly 80°F for most of the trip. Meaning I had packed for a warm spring and ended up in summer style weather. It did however rain towards the end of my trip which cooled things off a lot.

I highly suggest making sure you take care of yourself and prepare for the heat. In the summer it gets a lot hotter. If you’re curious to read more about the monthly weather, what you should wear or how much rain and typhoons they get on average I suggest checking out this website here.

As you can tell, since I went in winter and it was in the upper 70’s it gets hot in Okinawa. I was expecting from the weather reports I saw before I left for it to be spring like in weather and so I packed accordingly…which wasn’t right. I should’ve packed for summer. Clothing wise this is what I wish I’d packed. If you want to print it you can print a copy of my okinawa packing list by clicking on the link.

I suggest packing for warmer weather that might cool off with a breeze or some rain. The jeans I packed were too hot until it started to rain towards the end of my trip. At which point it was nice and cool. Also definitely take a fan. While for most of my trip I was good.

I, and a lot of people, while leaving Okinawa at the airport were dying while in line to go through security. There were only 4 doors and a lot of people trying to get through and the airport didn’t have any air conditioning on, at least that was noticeable. I whipped out a wooden fan I got in Malaysia and I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason I didn’t pass out. It also let me bond with a family whose grandma had a similar fan and whose grand-kid got excited every time they spotted me with my fan.

Also a side note for people with allergies. Due to the climate there are a lot of flowers in bloom and they’re everywhere.

The connecting platform from the airplane to the actual airport was filled with orchids. There were orchids everywhere in the airport. (It’s lovely) There are also a large amount of well loved stray cats.

I saw many people halting their daily business to stop and check on the cats or feed them and a lot of the cats seemed friendly. However if you have allergies and are extremely sensitive to cats or flowers make sure to pack your most trusty allergy medicine.

Something to note in Okinawa is that the usual transit passes you use in the rest of Japan do not work. There’s are lot of different passes for different regions of Japan. I have two. I have a Pasmo and a Icoca which usually covers where I tend to want to travel. Neither work in Okinawa. Other IC passes also don’t work.

The first thing you should do is decide what you want to do while in Okinawa. I wanted a super chill vacation so I wanted to stay in Naha as much as possible. Especially after seeing that the cherry blossom festival was a two hour bus ride away and there weren’t tours available that I could find in English. I had already booked my hotel in Naha for the entire time I was going to in Okinawa. So I suggest even before booking your hotel decide what you want to do and where you want to go. Then try and figure out logistics. If you want to travel around beyond Naha (the city nearest the airport) then one way to do that is to get an Okinawa bus pass. A 1 day pass is 2,500 yen, a 3 day pass is 5,000 yen. It is 500 yen more to add on the Yui rail. It does not however “include buses that pass the highway such as limousine buses, line No. 111 and No.117, and regular sightseeing buses.” You can pick up or buy the pass in the International arrival terminal at Naha airport. (These tickets are also available at other locations if you want to buy them later in your trip. You can check out the locations here.)

I had planned to get this ticket because it’s what everyone suggested getting online for getting around while in Okinawa. But because I was mostly staying in Naha it wasn’t worth it for me. Instead they suggested I go to the Domestic arrivals terminal and get the Naha bus pass. (660 yen per day just for the bus. If you want to add the monorail it’s 1,000 yen) After some back and forth in my limited Japanese and the staffs limited English I finally understood why they weren’t selling me a 3 day transit pass. Let alone why they weren’t wanting to sell me any bus pass. The Naha bus pass works for that day. Meaning if you start using it at 5pm it will only work until the last bus of that day. It’s a bit expensive to even do this. My hotel which was the only goal for that day other than eating and going to a nearby park was accessible via the monorail. It was more financially responsible to just go to the monorail and buy a one way pass to my nearest station and walk the ten minutes to my hotel. Due to my hotels location I was also near a ton of popular things to do including a lot of restaurants. And it turned out most of what I wanted to do was arguably within walking distance.

So I bought a one way ticket via the monorail (Yui Rail) and spent the rest of my vacation walking around the neighborhood my hotel was in.

I’m really grateful that neither bus shop sold me tickets. I’m glad that both booths knew that it wasn’t financially worth it for me to buy a pass with them. Because I’d never been to Naha before and the number 1 suggested way to get around is via a car. So I had assumed everything would be too far away for me to walk. But because I had planned to stay in Naha it was better for me to just walk. Or buy tickets at the station for the monorail. You can get a one day or two day monorail pass if that will be better for you financially. These run 800 yen for a day pass and 1,400 yen for two days.

If you want to the local IC card (similar to the Pasmo or Icoca) which is what I was looking for, it is called OKICA pass and can be purchased at the ticket machines. To get the card you must load up in increments of 1,000 yen and you will loose 500 yen as a card deposit when you first get the card. The purchase amounts for the card are 1,000, ￥2,000, ￥3,000, ￥4,000, ￥5,000 and ￥10,000. If you would like to take the bus and trains around Naha often then I suggest getting this card because it will make your commute around Naha faster than buying a ticket one way. The ticket machines have an English option so follow the instructions to get your card.

I did not get one of these cards since I took public transportation a grand total of twice. Once from the airport and again back to the airport. But if you want to explore more of Naha and be able to easily jump between bus and monorail I suggest getting this card. (For me to get to and from the airport those two times I spent a grand total of 600 yen which is why it was not worth it for me, even in retrospect.)

The regular paper pass work via scanning a QR code. Scan when entering the monorail and when leaving. When you’re done with your ticket there is a bucket you can drop it in or you can keep your ticket.

One of my favorite things to do when travel is try the local specialties. It’s become even more of a thing since living in Korea and whenever I mention traveling, even just to a different part of Korea, my coworkers want to know above all else if I ate the foods of the region and if it was good. Food is also a huge part of Okinawan culture, they believe that food is medicine and the proof is in the pudding as they have the longest life spans.

I didn’t manage to try everything they’re famous for but I tried a lot. I’m going to make a quick list for you and then in upcoming posts go more into detail on which places I went to try the foods.

Super special local ingredients!

Goya ( ゴーヤー)– Goya or Momordica charantia is a super healthy food and looks a bit like a bumpy cucumber. It is chock full of vitamin c and is considered the perfect thing to eat when it’s hot out to protect your stomach from the heat. Usually when it gets too hot out the appetite decreases. It’s believed the Goya keeps that from happening.

umi-budō (海ぶどう) – Umi Budo or Caulerpa lentillifera is known as a couple of different things, green caviar and sea grapes are the top two. Umi budo is neither a fruit or an egg but instead a satisfying to eat type of seaweed. Rather than leaves sprouting from the main stem there are a whole bunch of tiny orbs. If you like salty and popping boba in your tea then I suggest giving these a try. They’re a lot of fun, almost an edible equivalent to popping bubble wrap. It’s usually served covered in vinegar at room temperature.

Shiiquasa (シークヮーサー ) – This citrus fruit has various spellings and names in English. Among which include shiikuwasha, shiiquwasa, or shequasar or the scientific term: the Citrus depressa. It’s is a very sour fruit similar to a lemon or lime and sometimes confused with a calamansi (though it is similar). It can be found in various types of juices on the island as well as as a chip flavoring and in ice creams.

Benni Imo 沖縄の紅芋 – This is a relative to the sweet potato, taro, ube, or yam. However it is dark on the outside and bright purple on the inside. It gets used a lot in Okinawa for various fun desserts with no artificial coloring due to the natural dark purple color.

Maasu 真潮 – Massu or Masshu is very simply salt. There are about 150 types of salt uniquely made in Okinawa. And you’ll find a lot of things have salt to them. Some of these are quite fun like salt ice cream and cookies. As a person who grew up in the United States where salt is arguably over used, living for the last 5 years in South Korea where sugar is grabbed in almost all instances I would have use salt, meant my savory salt taste bud was in absolute heaven in Okinawa.

Aguu あぐー豚 – Aguu is Okinawan pork. Aguu is used commonly in many dishes so if you do not eat pork or meat make sure to double check with the restaurants that this is not used. It is a local special ingredient and every bit of the pig is used in some part of Okinawan cuisine. If you’re sensitive please take care when walking around in Okinawa as pig heads are commonly on display as a showcase to their importance within the culture or as part of souvenirs. I usually did not get too close to see if some of the ones on display were real or fake. Aguu itself is considered a very special type of pork and has become rarer than it use to be. Due to this the pork you eat in Okinawa might not automatically be aguu, and if you do find aguu it will be expensive.

kokuto 黒糖 – Kokuto is a local type of brown sugar made from a very sturdier type of sugar cane on the island that can withstand typhoons. It’s considered one of the world’s healthiest brown sugars.

peanut tofu– most tofu found in the world is made out of soybeans, but in Okinawa you can buy and try tofu made out of peanuts. Note peanuts is a popular ingredient, if you have allergies make sure to double check before eating things in Okinawa.

pineapple and mango- Pretty sure most people know what these are.

Alcohol and spirits

Awamori– local very strong rice liquor, it has no added sugars and is low in calories. If you want to enjoy it it is highly suggested to add at least ice or water (hot or cold). If you want all the calories then have it in a cocktail. Popular cocktails according to an Okinawan guide are: Mango Harusa (local mango, orange and shiiquasa), Awamori twice (milk and chocolate liquor), and Ryuku tonic (lychee).

Orion– the local beer. If you like this beer then you’re in luck. You will find souvenirs for it everywhere.

wine– due to the large amounts of fruit grown on the island you can try all sorts of fruity wines like pineapple, mango, guava, and shiiquasa.

Foods!

Goya Champuru – you might recognize that first word. Goya is bitter melon and Champuru essentially breaks down to stir fry. Goya Champuru is a great way to try bitter melon. Common ingredients include goya, tofu, egg, pork belly and/or Spam.

Rafute– this dish is a sweet meat. It’s made from pork belly cooked in Awamori and a local type of miso. Depending on who makes it it may be sweet or salty but it will be melt in your mouth soft. For some people that is a textural no-no with meat.

Okinawa soba– Usually soba is quite thin and dark looking, however the Okinawan style looks a bit more like udon with its paler 100% wheat made chewy noodles. It usually comes with some sort of pork. Commonly pork belly or spare ribs.

Taco rice– It’s exactly what it sounds like. Instead of a taco shell either soft or hard you’ve got a taco salad essentially on a bowl of rice. Not everyone’s cup of tea but I loved it.

Mimiga– I didn’t manage to give this a try but it is boiled and steamed pork ears. Note that if you have peanut allergies make sure to let them know because it’s usually covered in a peanut dressing.

Sweets

Santa Andagi– nicknamed Okinawan brown sugar donuts these are not what most would consider a donut. They are instead balls of fried dough. They aren’t super sweet and tend to be very crunchy on the outside. They’re fun to try and they come in other flavors but the traditional old school flavor is brown sugar.

Salt ice cream– exactly as it sounds. Also depending on location you can try flavored salts on top of your ice cream.

Okinawan salt cookies

Chinsuko– a cookie similar to a short bread cookie that comes in a lot of different flavors. They’re quite good. When it comes to souvenirs though you may notice that they’re being sold in joke boxes because Chinsuko is similar to a slang word for penis, “chinko”.

Beni Imo Tart– a bright purple sweet potato tart which can be found at almost any souvenir shop. You should also be able to sample these at many of the shops to see if you like it.

Beni imo soft serve– if the tart isn’t up your alley you can also try beni imo in the form of bright purple ice cream in many locations.

This of course isn’t everything that is exclusive to Okinawa or all they have to offer but this is a lot of the main ones I ran into and ran into often.

While Japanese is spoken in Okinawa and they’ll understand you if you say the basics, Okinawa has its own language that predates even the Ryūkyū Kingdom.

Languages are confusing and I am no expert. I only learned two phrases, one on a tour and the other at a show, but I figure if I share them so you’ll pleasantly surprise those you meet.

First up is hello. But as a note the language is gendered. So from my understanding what you say depending on the gender you identify as.

Since I identify as female I would say Haitai はいたい as a greeting to the people around me.

For those who identify as male you say Haisai はいさい .

Thank you is nifee deebiru 御拝でーびーる. It is not a gendered phrase.

If you want to memorize hello in Okinawan there is a song that is played practically everywhere, even if it’s just a little jingle on the Yui rail or at the airport called Haisai ojisan (ハイサイおじさん). If you want to hear the song a version of it can be heard here. If you go to any traditional performance there’s a good chance this song will be played accompanied by the sanshin.

Okinawa Paris exhausted me. There were so many things I wanted to see coupled with the strikes that was the one two punch combination that left me a zombie.

#how to get around okinawa #okinawa #public transit #public transportation #transportation #travel

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lodelss · 4 years

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Aimée Lutkin | Longreads | November 2019 | 15 minutes (3,262 words)

“Hello?” my grandmother’s cigarette-seasoned voice would always answer the phone immediately. I pictured her sitting directly beside it in her motel room, waiting to see which of her three daughters or four grandchildren was checking on her.

“Hi, grandma! Just calling to see if you and Papa are OK in the storm,” I’d say cheerfully, assuming they were basically fine, as they always were. They had evacuated their house, a flimsy four-room hut built atop cement blocks, that was set inconveniently close to the Narrow Bay, right on Mastic Beach in Long Island. All that stood between their home and a body of water that could consume it was a dirt road and a rustling wall of reeds that created a marshy barrier and the illusion of distance. That illusion was regularly washed away by storm flooding, sending them skipping backward like sandpipers.

“Well, we’re all settled in here,” she’d answer, sounding pleased to have evacuated for the night to an artless motel next to a barren parking lot. “Your father is watching the news. Looks like we’ll be back tomorrow!”

“Oh, that’s good,” I’d say, ignoring that she had confused me for my mother as she often did after passing her 80th birthday.

“Yeah, not too bad, not too bad,” she’d say, though there were a few times that did get bad. The year their cars were washed away and they were trapped in their house, years where the power went out. But they always bounced back and during the next storm I’d call to check in again, repeating the same familiar pattern.

For years, visiting my grandparents involved a two- to three-hour train ride on the LIRR from New York City; I went by myself once every summer or spring, and I visited with my mom and aunt and uncle who lived in Montauk every Thanksgiving and Christmas. Montauk is on the eastern tip of Long Island, so Mastic was where we met in the middle until my mother refused to go back. Then I’d go by myself for one winter holiday, alone on the cold, empty train, traveling back and forth on the same day. A six-hour train ride was preferable to spending the night in the drafty house, making conversation around my mother’s absence.

Most of my memories of dinners in Mastic were of the escalating tension between my mother and her father. At some point, Papa had been banned from direct criticism, so he substituted the word “Democrats” for her name. One of his favorite pointed sayings was “An open mind is like a sewer — all the garbage falls in.”

On the trip home, no matter how enraged she had become, my mother would say he hadn’t always been like this. He’d been a teacher. A philosopher. He used to build things and volunteer and not watch Fox News.

Before my mother’s boycott began, managing the volatile atmosphere was my job; the open hostility in the air bothered me, but it was easier to handle with a generation of distance between us. I learned quickly that one of the safest conversational topics was always the view.

“Look how beautiful it is,” I would say, and the group would repeatedly comply, turning to stare out the wide picture window over the dilapidated second-story porch. Any time of day was lovely, in any weather, but a clear sunset would flood the room with a warm apricot glow. The water caught and refracted the end of the day, allowing its goodbye to sweetly linger. My grandmother’s table, too big for the space, trapping us against the walls, would become a map of the world. Every person with their face tilted out toward the sun was trapped in amber light, frozen momentarily by warmth instead of cold.

***

I spent most of Superstorm Sandy drunk. At some point the internet went out. My roommates — who were also drunk — and I sat around our living room checking our phones again and again. I lay on my back watching the bare trees whipping outside my window. To us, hurricane preparedness meant having enough wine in our apartment. We’d been responsible. Born and raised in New York City, I’d weathered many hurricane seasons and had found that the danger warnings were always over the top, at least for the five boroughs.

Lack of internet in our Brooklyn neighborhood gave us some hint of the extremity of the situation, but it still took a little while before we understood that this hurricane was different. Reports of destruction filtered in as we sobered up and got back online. The lights were out in Manhattan, Red Hook was underwater, the Rockaways were a disaster zone, and Breezy Point was on fire.

They returned when the water receded. At first it seemed to me that that was that. Another storm survived.

In the following weeks, I volunteered, making sandwiches in a church basement, sorting clothes and other donations, traveling out to the Rockaways to help people find what they needed at an auditorium that had been transformed into a relief center. I went with a group of volunteers to knock on doors in apartments that still had no heat or power, finding people who hadn’t left or who had nowhere to go. I met a woman who was running out of insulin, which we didn’t have, and another whose antibiotics for a MRSA infection had been ruined in her water-damaged car. A father and daughter were boiling a kettle on their gas stove to keep their apartment warm, which another volunteer warned was dangerous. They nodded politely. Most of the people we met appeared very calm in the dark hallway, as though they were certain that things would soon snap back into normalcy. Walking down below their complex, seeing how the boardwalk had been pulled into twisted spikes by the waves, how sand spilled everywhere, gobbling up the streets, it seemed impossible that anything would be normal again.

Since Sandy, new condos have gone up in many of the hardest hit areas, even those still in flood zones. Writer Sarah Miller has investigated for Popula the cognitive dissonance required to move real estate into Miami Beach, purchases that essentially boil down to buying a house for 50 years, tops. Real estate development has mutated to work in tandem with climate change: Destruction levels an area, driving out residents; developers move in, their projects subsidized by government relief efforts. Gentrification accelerates and the people who left can’t afford to come back — yet, this all happens in an area that remains threatened by further climate destruction. The very wealthy can afford to buy the last 50 years of river views, as the people who once lived there search for a place that is not only affordable, but also doesn’t teeter constantly on the edge of ruin. The land shrinks.

***

After Sandy hit, it took a while to get in touch with my grandparents and my aunt and uncle, who said they’d briefly been cut off entirely by rising waters around the Montauk peninsula, which knocked out phone service. My grandparents’ home had flooded, but they’d made it to their usual motel. They returned when the water receded. At first it seemed to me that that was that. Another storm survived.

The seasonal challenges of my extended family’s geographic location hadn’t been something I thought about much, just as I hadn’t worried too much about a hurricane even though I grew up on an island. New York contains many mythologies and most of them are connected to the city’s relentless ability to continue, no matter what. This is basically the definition of hubris — the confidence that because you survived something the last thousand times, you will survive it the next thousand.

My grandparents were also both born in New York; my grandmother was an only child. Her mother and father worked as a cook and a chauffeur, respectively, and rented an apartment close to St. John the Divine, in Morningside Heights. In her childhood photos, she looks like a little doll, solitary and posed in patent leather shoes. She grew to be almost six feet tall and gorgeous. She once showed me a photo of herself looking dashing in a headscarf, seated high on a fence.

“Look at me,” she cough-laughed. “I knew what I was doing there.”

Any time of day was lovely, in any weather, but a clear sunset would flood the room with a warm apricot glow. The water caught and refracted the end of the day, allowing its goodbye to sweetly linger.

My grandfather was one of many children of an Irish immigrant mother and an Italian mobster, whose name he wasn’t allowed to speak. I’ve never seen a picture of him before his days as a soldier in WWII, stationed in France after surviving D-Day. His family lived on the Lower East Side, then Williamsburg. He would sometimes tell stories about collecting lost bits of coal that fell from the delivery truck and hollering up at his mom to drain the bathtub full of gin when the cops walked down the street. These were colorful tales meant to make growing up poor sound much more fun than it ever actually was, but he enjoyed telling them. Once when he came to visit my mom and me at our East Village apartment, he spent the day pointing at rooftops, saying he used to jump from one to the other as a kid.

My grandparents met at a funeral. They were cousins of each other’s cousins.

New York City starts to feel very small if you’ve lived there all your life, so by the time they were married with children they’d moved further out, then further out again when the kids were gone. They’d wanted a small, manageable place by the beach for their retirement. They drove past the house in Mastic and a man was standing outside. They asked him if he’d like to sell it, and he miraculously said yes.

I’ve been told the house washed away once, during a storm in the 1920s, then got hauled back to the same spot and put up on those cement pylons. The story was suspect, but to me it said something about what used to pass for hurricane preparedness.

***

A few weeks before Christmas 2012, less than two months after Sandy, my grandfather fell down the stairs. The staircase leading up to the livable floor of the house was curved and uneven, twisting in at two points. I’m not sure how far down he went, but he broke his hip on the journey and was taken to the hospital, then a rehab center.

My grandmother eventually went to stay with her eldest daughter in Maryland. She was behaving erratically. She didn’t notice that her swollen legs were leaking clear fluid until my aunt pointed it out. She sounded strange when we talked.

“I think I’m about to die,” she told me on the phone. This was something she’d been implying for years, giving away her most cherished wicker-frame mirrors and seashell-covered jewelry boxes until her shelves emptied, explaining she “didn’t need them anymore.” But that was the first time she’d said it so explicitly. She didn’t sound scared. She delivered the news like she was discussing the weather — a little bored, a little distracted. It was the voice of someone going through a transition so huge they couldn’t possibly be bothered to talk about anything else.

My grandfather was moved to an assisted living home that was difficult to get to from the city. My mother traveled there alone and discovered he’d been sleeping in a wheelchair because it was too hard for him to get in and out of bed. He’d immediately fallen into an intense enmity with his roommate, who had an electric Lazy Boy he wouldn’t let my grandfather nap in. She started to look for homes in Brooklyn, somewhere she could check in on him every day.

And then my grandmother did die.

***

After holiday dinners, the younger folks would usually go on a walk around the block before dessert. My grandmother accepted a very limited amount of help from us. We could clear the table, but she wouldn’t allow anyone into her rapid-fire cutlery shuffling over the small sink. Everything she did was set to a higher speed and we would only slow her down.

We walked to digest her butter-soup mashed potatoes and to release a little of the tension into the fresh, salty air. Before we left, my grandfather often called out to insist we bring his walking stick by the door, warning, “Take it with you to beat off the wild dogs. They run in packs out there!”

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I never saw a single dog without a fence penning it in, but I did once ask my aunt if we should bring the stick.

“If you see a dog, are you going to hit it?” she asked.

The answer was no, so we went silent and empty-handed down the rutted road, past the reeds to a small slope of empty shore. Water lapped the edge, which was covered in blue mussel shells and seaweed, plastic bottle caps, broken glass, the occasional dead fish, and a thin crust of ice, which became thinner every year, as the weather grew milder in winter.

Past the ripples, Pattersquash Island created a dark line on the horizon. The island was originally part of the tribal land of the Unkechaug Nation, who live on the smallest reservation in New York state, set along the shore a 10-minute drive from my grandparents’ house. It covers less than a mile, which includes water. Shinnecock artist Jeremy Dennis has been compiling stories of indigenous Long Island for his project On This Site, and he writes that Pattersquash is historically considered a sacred site for vision quests. It appeared so still and desolate from a distance.

During Sandy, more than 100 homes on the Poospatuck reservation were damaged. There has been some attention paid to the reservation’s recovery from missionaries and PR companies, but there has not been much media coverage of the incipient creep of rising sea levels, stealing yet more territory from Indigenous people year by year. Mastic and its residents have been living under the threat of both weather and gentrification for decades, resisting a transformation that almost no other beach town on the East End has managed to avoid. Stories about the area over the past 20 years are a whiplash of wonder and warnings.

In 2001, the New York Times touted Mastic as the island’s “Best Kept Secret,” citing its proximity to Fire Island and the relative affordability of real estate compared to the Hamptons. It was suggestively dubbed a “working class stronghold,” but several political and financial mishaps, including a series of racial housing discrimination suits, almost drove the area into bankruptcy, and they were obligated to rejoin the Town of Brookhaven after an attempt at self-governance that began in 2010. In 2018, Newsday heralded another Mastic renewal, pointing out that real estate was still comparatively cheap, and many of the decrepit buildings that had given the area a bad rep were being torn down by new management.

Damage in the Hamptons after Sandy redirected vacationers to Montauk, transforming a quieter part of the island into a party hotspot that is barely navigable from June to September. My aunt and uncle, who work in the lighthouse and laying tile, were evicted from their home of more than 25 years after its owner died and a fashion photographer bought the property. They’ve been looking for somewhere to move they can afford. They’re thinking out of state.

New York contains many mythologies and most of them are connected to the city’s relentless ability to continue, no matter what.

Bad housing and “slumlords” have been a continuing point of contention in the area, as the New York Times also reported in 2008, seven years after recommending it as summer getaway. A number of sexual assaults brought attention to the high rate of registered sex offenders in the area, whether they were responsible for the attacks or not. In 2006, a man was arrested for planning to set fire to a building occupied by four tenants on the registry. While some of these units have been torn down via legal means, issues around infrastructure, especially inadequate sewage systems, seem to be holding greater change back.

Visiting only briefly and driven from the train station to the edge of the world every time, I was largely unaware of these issues before Sandy, except for general observations about the number of beer emporiums we drove by to get to the bay. My grandfather built a homemade security system. It felt absurd to be deafened by sirens out on that otherwise quiet corner, and toward the end of their time there, the system was perpetually offline. The house was empty for a week before it was broken into.

***

My grandfather died about nine months after my grandmother, while living in an assisted living home in Brooklyn. I’d like to say he was happy to be back in his old borough, but he most definitely was not. Every time I visited, he practically begged me to move back to Mastic with him, to live in that house, and take care of him there. It was both an outrageous and completely understandable request.

“We were happy there,” he told me one afternoon, tears in his eyes, though by then my mother was pretty convinced he hadn’t fallen down the stairs. She thought, based on the comments he’d let slip, that my grandmother had maybe pushed him during a fight, but that was just her theory. She guessed that the stress of the storm hastened my grandmother’s mental deterioration, maybe even that the new hurricane molds growing in their dirt-floor basement infiltrated her brain somehow, and my grandmother didn’t recognize the danger as their argument escalated. Not exactly a scientific diagnosis, and there’s no proof, but it was hard not to see some connection between Sandy and their deaths — how many storms had they survived before one rose too high and their whole survival system collapsed? All it took was for something they’d lived through over and over to hit a little harder, in a moment of vulnerability, a moment of unpreparedness.

I went by the house before it was sold to see if there was anything that should be retrieved. The people who broke in hadn’t found much of any value, but they appeared to have had a fun afternoon trashing the place. All the familiar knick-knacks and books and worn blankets had been strewn with abandon across the living room, then pissed on. It felt like the destruction from Sandy had been here since the night it happened and had only now become visible. I looked for the ashes of my grandmother’s favorite cat, but only managed to find my grandpa’s dog tags and a few old pictures in the debris and a piece of paper documenting my mother’s first communion. I took my grandmother’s tarnished silver spoons and a collection of vinyl records that had sat so long their grooves were almost flat. I played them later, trying to imagine her listening to them when she was young and felt much sadder than I did on the day of her death.

Then I walked out onto the old porch, stepping over holes, past a long beam that had once served as a ladder for a cat named Squeaky. I turned the corner around the dining room to look one last time at the view. The bay stretched out below as the blinding white light of the late afternoon sun swallowed the hard borders of the land. It seemed like the waves were rolling all the way to their door.

***

Aimée Lutkin is a freelance writer who has written for Jezebel, Glamour, Marie Claire, Popula, and others. She is currently working on her first book for Dial Press on the current societal trends around loneliness titled The Lonely Hunter; you can follow her on Twitter @alutkin.

Editor: Kelly Stout Fact checker: Sam Schuyler Copy editor: Jacob Gross

#IFTTT #Blogger

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bassclarinetprincess · 6 years

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Jacob wants me to do all the Color Asks so ~*HERE WE GO*~

Red How was your first kiss? -- OK so technically I had a non-consensual kiss when I was sixteen (it’s not as bad as it sounds, she was v drunk and kinda came at me at a party) but I’m going to ignore that in favor of my first consensual kiss at eighteen. It was with my first girlfriend, it was like our third date, and it was good! (Perks of waiting that long to kiss someone -- I feel like you aren’t as sloppy as you could be.) I remember very little specifically about it except we were in her room and at one point I pulled back and was like “gee, I guess I am actually gay” and she laughed at me, and then we kept kissing. What do you love about yourself? -- When I go into Hyperfocus I can get a lot of shit done and get it done very well! I am also a pretty good writer when I stop, take a breath, and remember to vary my sentences. When’s the last time you warmed your hands in front of a fire? -- I’m almost certain I have dramatically warmed my hands in front of someone’s lighter or match or whatever in recent months because I am a theatrical asshole, but otherwise probably at my grandma’s house when I was home for interim break in February. Would you rather watch a sunrise or a sunset? -- Do you really think I, Dylan, am going to wake up early enough to see a sunrise? What’s the best thing about summer? -- It’s the best time for road trips. Also Pride Month.

Orange What makes you feel warm inside? -- Fiona the hippo? What’s your favorite Halloween tradition? -- In high school it used to be marching band -- our football team was really good so we would usually end up in post-season games. Since the directors knew no one really wanted to be there we got to put together a really fun and relaxed Spoopy halftime show and wear partial costumes that didn’t obscure our uniforms (I was always Dr. Horrible because I could swap out the black band gloves for white and wear the goggles on my forehead). So that’s a fun memory. Oh, I also used to enjoy going to the zoo on Halloween because they decorated it to be Spoopy and had workers handing out candy at the various exhibits. Otherwise Halloween really isn’t my favorite holiday, idk. What’s the last thing you learned? -- I got really good news about my job next year! And I read an article this morning about QAnon (and am rolling my eyes). The last skill I learned was how to roast a chicken. When’s the last time you felt obsessed? -- BITCH WHEN AM I NOT OBSESSED. That’s literally a defining character trait of mine. Um, probably any time I go one of the Drag Race subreddits. What’s your favorite article of clothing? -- I have a blue-grey button-down I bought at Wildfang in Portland and it is covered with pictures of cats. It is the cutest thing I own and I always wear it on dates/potential dates because it’s a conversation starter.

Yellow If you could have any view from your bedroom window what would you choose? -- I stayed at this hotel in Evanston once, and we were on a very high floor so you could see not only the entire town of Evanston but also Chicago in the distance. It was a very good view and I want it every day. What’s your favorite thing to do on a sunny day? -- Stay inside and curse nature. Um, I like eating outdoors. Or spending time in parks. IDK, I really am more of an indoor creature. What do you consider lucky? -- Brofessor once gave me two pennies that I keep on my person at all times. I also keep a note in my wallet that a girl I had a crush on in Portland passed to me in class one day telling me my podcast was awesome. What made you smile today? -- Nothing, life is pain. That e-mail I mentioned earlier sure made me happy. Otherwise it’s midmorning, not much to smile about at this exact second. What makes you happy? -- Seeing my friends succeed, detailed compliments about my work, watching The Trixie and Katya Show, Alaska and Willam’s new podcast, The Hilarious World of Depression, John Mulaney, Great British Baking Show, scrapbooking.

Green What’s your favorite thing to do outside? -- What part of cursing nature do you not understand? I LOVE seeing movies outside, like at parks or projected on the side of someone’s house or whatever. Swimming is also fun but I don’t do that often because dysphoria and wasps. Do you like camping? -- I don’t know that I’ve ever been camping proper? When Dad and I went to Cornerstone we would camp, but there were always Portapotties and my diet consisted of too many Pop-Tarts. That was certainly fun though, and I would love to try actually roughing it at some point. What would you spend $1,000 on? -- Legal name change and the assorted paperwork that will come with that, with leftover proceeds going to a new fluid-head tripod. What’s your job, or what do you want to do as your job? -- I’m working at a church/community development center and producing short films to aid their mission to promote housing stability and raise awareness of gentrification in the neighborhood! My job description originally consisted of Being a Secretary pretty much, but I think that’s been tossed out the window. What’s your favorite article of clothing? -- OK, I guess I can tell you another one... I have these gray jeans from Old Navy that I really like.

Blue What do you do when you’re sad? -- Self-destruct, usually. Or watch Melancholia. Again. What are some things you do when you can’t sleep? -- Play games on my phone (bad), dig out my box full of nice cards and letters people have written me and reread them (good). What was the best non-romantic night you’ve had? -- Oh, this is hard. I’ve had a lot of good ones. Probably the night I went to a Jessi Klein reading and book signing in Portland and met Carrie Brownstein and Fred Armisen (except I was awkward AS FUCK and feel so bad because in retrospect I was kind of an asshole fan but I didn’t know any better and now I do). And they wished my luck with my career because I had asked a career question during the Q&A portion of the night. My gender reveal party this spring was also really fun, though. What kind of covers do you have on your bed? -- Currently a single sheet. This will soon change though (we’re shopping for linens for my move.) Who was the last person you told a secret to? -- Joelle.

Purple What’s your astrological sign? -- “I’m a fuckin’ Libra!” -- Adore Delano What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received? -- You will never finish a project as much as you would like, you just keep working until someone or something takes it away from you. (I’m sure I’ve gotten life advice that is good too, but I can’t remember it right now.) When’s the last time you followed your instincts? -- I really didn’t want to go to the Student Life Leadership Awards this spring (I was seriously underdressed and sad), but something told me I should go. I then won a major award so like, good thing I went. What’s your favorite food? -- Seafood (especially mussels) and eggs (especially deviled). What’s your secret dream? -- Play Sally Bowles in a community theater production of Cabaret. If I go on testosterone before this can happen, then I’ll take the role of Emcee. Or Bobby in Company. I don’t care, I just want to be on a stage. Ooh, I also want to be in a sketch comedy troupe and join an LGBT marching band.

#d rants #about me #ask

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chocolate-brownies · 6 years

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Want to attend a Wanderlust 108 in your city? Click here tickets, locations, and information.

The Twin Cities might be known for its’ sub-zero winters and skyscraper-climbing raccoons, but there is no shortage of healthy eats, cozy yoga studios, and truly enchanting boutiques. Together, Minneapolis and St. Paul are their own little wellness Disneyland.

We asked Sacred Space’s owner (and Twin Cities native), Caitlin Gottschalk what her top picks were for soaking in all the good-vibes Minneapolis + Saint Paul has to offer.

Where to Practice

Sacred Space Yoga + Meditation 1955 Johnson St. NE, (612) 361-1138 Sacred Space is a sanctuary for your personal yoga or meditation practice. Our supportive community is built to serve both new-comers and veterans to meditation and yoga. We offer guided and self-guided classes that can awaken a novice practice or deepen an existing one. Already have a yoga studio or home practice? Sacred Space aims to support those looking to find affordable ways to enrich your self-care to new depths with bi-weekly moon meditations, private Reiki Sessions in our Yurt or come to a community Crystal Soundbath on Sundays at 10a! First month unlimited: $35. Sign up in-studio. All welcome.

Studio One Yoga Locations:Roseville, White Bear Lake, and Stillwater Craving some heat? Check out one of Studio One Yoga’s heated vinyasa or hot classes. Studio One welcomes anyone who is ready to relax, work hard, laugh or let go. In addition to offering heated yoga, they also have a wide-array of restorative, yin, and beginner-level classes to suit all styles and moods.

Tula Yoga + Wellness 99 Snelling Avenue North Saint Paul, MN 55104, (651) 645-5551 Find yourself in Saint Paul? Stop by Tula Yoga + Wellness on Snelling. This cozy exclusively by-donation studio has a wide array of daily classes and also offers aerial yoga. It’s a mellow and welcoming space with heartfelt teachings, guaranteeing you a blissful morning, evening, or afternoon.

Also check out: Healing Elements Wellness, Radiant Life Yoga, Imbue Yoga and Yess Yoga

What to Eat

J. Selby’s 169 N. Victoria St., (651) 222-3263 J. Selby’s is a plant-based eatery location in St. Paul, Minnesota with a menu FULL of delicious food (a must-try is the vegan buffalo wings made from deep-fried cauliflower). J. Selby’s serves both familiar favorites and new, exciting dishes all re-imagined and recreated as completely plant-based fare to help us all move toward a sustainable, environmental friendly, compassionate way of enjoying food. This awesome new addition to Saint Paul is great for a quick, healthy-bite.

Tiny Diner 1024 East 38th St., (612) 767.3322 If you are looking for locally-grown, sustainably-sourced, wild-crafted, and hand-picked meals that taste like your grandma made it, this is your spot. Tiny Diner has an abundant garden outside where you can see fresh herbs get plucked and added to your omelette (true story). The Tiny Diner and Farm is a small place with big ideas. Every month they pay tribute to diner towns across the USA, exploring different ways to use our Midwestern bounty. They produce energy with their patio roof and solar array, increasing urban soil fertility, and create a natural habitat for pollinators and urban wildlife. If that isn’t enough, they make an amazing Sage Cream Soda. Sip and savor on the adorable patio.

Passionflower 747 Cleveland Ave S., (612) 444-1624 Passionflower features wholesome wellness shakes, superfood smoothies, and recovery beverages that are as beautiful as they are nutritious (expect unexpected ingredients like coconut cream and dragonfruit, and churro whey powder). Founded by Danny Litin, this locally-born gem is is made to fuel your body and sweeten your soul. Passionflower is conveniently located in the heart of Alchemy, which offers hybrid yoga, strength, and intense conditioning to change the body and renew the mind.

Where to Shop

The Future 2223 E. 35th St., (612) 444-1624 The Future is a project space, artist market, Aquarian lab, artist residency, library, workshop and event space in South Minneapolis. The storefront is a small retail space that features a curated selection of handmade offerings by artists, witches, weirdos and healers, with a focus on items to make a body or space more powerful and positive. Think: rare, handmade tarot decks, crystals-a-plenty, and hand-wrapped sage bundles. The shop is always shifting it’s material and offerings so check back often. It sits next-door to Imbue Yoga which is one of the most quaint and calm studios in the area.

Khazana 2225 Lyndale Ave S., (612) 339-4565 Khazana (the Urdu word for “treasure”) is a gallery, boutique, and community gathering space located in Minneapolis. Owner Anju Kataria started collecting treasures from around the world as a child growing up in India, and continues to travel globally to meet and work with passionate craftspeople. Khazana lives up to it’s name and is a true hidden-gem. The artifacts and treasures in this epic space have the power transport to another time and place entirely. Anju’s eye and care for her finds is impeccable—if you find something for yourself there and are lucky enough cross paths with Anju, be sure to inquire about it’s story.

Duke Albert 2516 Central Ave NE If you’re looking for luxury incense, incredible candles, or face-care so good you could practically eat it, this is your spot. Duke Albert is a new lifestyle collective bringing chic-casual home goods, apothecary, books and other sundries to the heart of Northeast. They always have a rotating selection of perfectly curated finds the owners are down-to-earth and the vibes are oh-so-sweet sweet. It’s one of the best treat-yo-self spots in the neighborhood.

Where to Spend Time Outdoors

Como Lakeside Pavillion 1360 Lexington Pkwy N. Como is right by the water and home to Spring Cafe. (Easy grab-and-go eats. You have to try their $3 Elote.) The Pavilion is known for outdoor concerts, musicals, and other performances, but it’s also great place to just stop and soak in your surroundings. Within walking distance, you can visit the Como Zoo and Botanical Gardens, or you can take advantage of their kayak, pedal boat, canoe, or paddle board rentals! Best part—they also offer donation-based yoga on Wednesdays and Fridays at 10am with Sara Wait.

CHS Field 360 Broadway, (651) 644-3517 CHS Field is home to the Saint Paul Saints and is located in Lowertown, a vibrant neighborhood on the east end of downtown Saint Paul. Lowertown is well-known for its thriving arts community, beautiful parks, unique historic character, and a booming farmer’s market. Tickets for games are under $20—if you’re around for a Friday Home Game, make sure you stick around for fireworks afterward.

Movies in the Park Offered all over the city. Check website for full calendar. Parks across both Minneapolis and Saint Paul offer free movies (both old and new) during the summer months. Bring-your-own blankets, snacks, pillows, friends, and probably bug-spray. The shows start 15 minutes after sun-down.

Have a Good Time

Can-Can Wonderland 755 Prior Ave N., (651) 925-2261 Can-Can Wonderland is an artist-inspired and designed 18-hole mini golf course. It lives up to it’s name as a wonderland—prepare for wild murals, live music, crazy cocktails, oodles of vintage pinball machines, and an evening full of whimsical entertainment.

Salt Salon + Spa + Cafe 3947 Excelsior Blvd. 952-300-2153 If you are looking for a place to unplug, unwind, and get pampered then scoot on over to the new Salt Salon, Spa & Cafe. They have full salon services if you’re looking for a cut, color, mani or pedi. But they also have one of the most beautiful salt caves in the metro—and we have a few! Bonus? They give you a complimentary pot of french-press coffee or loose-leaf tea while you wait for you appointment. The ambiance alone is worth the stop.

—

Caitlin Gottschalk, RYT-200, has been enthralled with the magic of yoga for over 10 years. She currently runs CTG Yoga which is a lifestyle company that focuses on mindfully-made drygoods to inspire or enhance graceful living. You can see her journey on Instagram (@ctgyogalife) where she does interactive micro-blogging, offering daily tips and tricks on healthy and conscious living. When not on her mat, she enjoys getting lost in the woods, reading tarot cards, stargazing, juicing leafy greens, and composing dreamy electronic music to dance unapologetically to.

The post The Yogi’s Guide to Twin Cities appeared first on Wanderlust.

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

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cupcakelord69 · 7 years

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I’m bored, so why not?

200: My crush’s name is: My girlfriend’s name 199: I was born in: Irvine, CA 198: I am really: empathetic 197: My cellphone company is: Verizon 196: My eye color is: Green 195: My shoe size is: 9? 194: My ring size is: Hell if I know 193: My height is: 5′9 192: I am allergic to: Nuts, cats 191: My 1st car was: Nissan Altima 190: My 1st job was: Blaze Pizza 189: Last book you read: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz 188: My bed is: Super comfy 187: My pet: I have two betta fish 186: My best friend: My girlfriend and my other best friend 185: My favorite shampoo is: Whatever gets the job done 184: Xbox or ps3: Gameboy 183: Piggy banks are: Somewhat useful 182: In my pockets: I carry everything I own, when I’m wearing my EMT pants, which have 9 pockets! 181: On my calendar: Is all my homework 180: Marriage is: Cool if you find the right person and have realistic expectations 179: Spongebob can: Disappear 178: My mom: The reason I have PTSD 177: The last three songs I bought were? Ricochet, Dark on Me, Air Force Song 176: Last YouTube video watched: Marijuana by John Oliver 175: How many cousins do you have? Hell if I know 174: Do you have any siblings? Yes, one step sister and two younger siblings 173: Are your parents divorced? Yes 172: Are you taller than your mom? Yes 171: Do you play an instrument? Yes, guitar 170: What did you do yesterday? I took a trip to the city to buy a new uniform [ I Believe In ] 169: Love at first sight: No, but I believe that your souls can recognize each other on first sight, which is a breeding ground for love 168: Luck: Yes 167: Fate: Somewhat 166: Yourself: Hell yeah, even when no one else does 165: Aliens: It’s possible with the size of our universe 164: Heaven: I believe we go some place nice when we die, but I don’t believe it is segregated into heaven and hell; we all deserve to find peace if we did good things in life 163: Hell: I don’t believe in hell either, but I believe there will be some type of temporary punishment for genuinely bad people; I have no power to tell who a bad person is though 162: God: No, we have morality born inside us and the power to do amazing things; we don’t need a God for that 161: Horoscopes: No 160: Soul mates: Yes; I believe that souls can know one another and be meant for each other 159: Ghosts: Maybe? 158: Gay Marriage: Fuck yeah 157: War: It is useless and a waste of life and resources 156: Orbs: No 155: Magic: I wish I could [ This or That ] 154: Hugs or Kisses: Kisses 153: Drunk or High: High 152: Phone or Online: Online 151: Red heads or Black haired: Black 150: Blondes or Brunettes: Brunettes 149: Hot or cold: Cold 148: Summer or winter: Winter 147: Autumn or Spring: Autumn 146: Chocolate or vanilla: Vanilla 145: Night or Day: Night 144: Oranges or Apples: Apples 143: Curly or Straight hair: No preference 142: McDonalds or Burger King: McDonalds 141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: White 140: Mac or PC: PC 139: Flip flops or high heals: Flip flops 138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: Sweet and poor, like I am already 137: Coke or Pepsi: Coke 136: Hillary or Obama: Obama 135: Burried or cremated: Cremated 134: Singing or Dancing: Singing 133: Coach or Chanel: No preference 132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: No preference 131: Small town or Big city: Small town 130: Wal-Mart or Target: Target 129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Adam Sandler 128: Manicure or Pedicure: Manicure 127: East Coast or West Coast: East Coast 126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas 125: Chocolate or Flowers: Neither, bring me fucking normal food and I’ll be happy 124: Disney or Six Flags: Disney 123: Yankees or Red Sox: No preference [ Here’s What I Think About ] 122: War: It is ridiculous that we kill to make peace 121: George Bush: Dumbass but better than our current president 120: Gay Marriage: It should be no different than other types of marraige 119: The presidential election: *Drinks an entire bottle of whiskey before I’m able to answer this question* 118: Abortion: It is a woman’s right to decide her future, including whether or not she will have a child 117: MySpace: Forgot it existed 116: Reality TV: Idiotic and slightly entertaining 115: Parents: I have mixed feelings on this one because my parents are polar opposites 114: Back stabbers: Petty 113: Ebay: A more expensive and competitive version of Amazon 112: Facebook: The thing that everyone has and no one really wanted in the first place, but its there anyways 111: Work: Can be nice if you do something productive and that you are passionate about 110: My Neighbors: I never really see them 109: Gas Prices: WAY too high 108: Designer Clothes: Too expensive but I can appreciate that they look good sometimes 107: College: The most expensive thing on this list; Great concept; Shitty exectution 106: Sports: Receives way too much of my college tuition 105: My family: Most of them are great people 104: The future: Hoping for the best, preparing for anything, loving every minute of it [ Last time I ] 103: Hugged someone: A few minutes ago 102: Last time you ate: A few hours ago 101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: A few days ago 100: Cried in front of someone: A few weeks ago 99: Went to a movie theater: Last Tuesday to see PowerRangers 98: Took a vacation: November 2016, Pennslyvania 97: Swam in a pool: A month ago 96: Changed a diaper: October, 2016 95: Got my nails done: Two years ago? 94: Went to a wedding: 2012 93: Broke a bone: Collarbone(2005); Finger(2016) 92: Got a peircing: Never 91: Broke the law: Never 90: Texted: A few minutes ago [ MISC ] 89: Who makes you laugh the most: My girlfriend 88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: My dogs 87: The last movie I saw: Power Rangers 86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Having a cool job and helping people 85: The thing im not looking forward to: Paying more bills 84: People call me: Pretzel 83: The most difficult thing to do is: Feel what someone else is feeling and love them all the same 82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: Nope 81: My zodiac sign is: Virgo 80: The first person i talked to today was: My best friend 79: First time you had a crush: In the 4th grade, I had a crush on my childhood best friend 78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: My girlfriend 77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: A few minutes ago 76: Right now I am talking to: No one 75: What are you going to do when you grow up: Work for the EPA (if it still exists by the time I graduate college) 74: I have/will get a job: In environmental sustainability or healthcare 73: Tomorrow: I have class 72: Today: I had class 71: Next Summer: I will still have fucking class 70: Next Weekend: Is Easter...and I’m doing nothing for it 69: I have these pets: 2 Boston terriers; 1 Betta Fish 68: The worst sound in the world: High pitched drilling 67: The person that makes me cry the most is: My mom 66: People that make you happy: I have already listed them many times 65: Last time I cried: Last night 64: My friends are: The best 63: My computer is: One of my friends 62: My School: Somewhere in Utah 61: My Car: A crappy 90′s car that still works better than the American government right now 60: I lose all respect for people who: Lie 59: The movie I cried at was: I can’t remember 58: Your hair color is: Brown 57: TV shows you watch: Parks and Rec 56: Favorite web site: No preference 55: Your dream vacation: Anywhere were there is not a lot of people, a cool culture to explore, and good food 54: The worst pain I was ever in was: When my spleen exploded 53: How do you like your steak cooked: Medium 52: My room is: Clean? 51: My favorite celebrity is: Emma Watson 50: Where would you like to be: In someone’s arms 49: Do you want children: Yeah, eventually 48: Ever been in love: Of course 47: Who’s your best friend: I feel like I already answered this question 46: More guy friends or girl friends: Guy friends 45: One thing that makes you feel great is: Love 44: One person that you wish you could see right now: My grandma 43: Do you have a 5 year plan: Sort of 42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: Nope 41: Have you pre-named your children: No... 40: Last person I got mad at: My mom 39: I would like to move to: Washington 38: I wish I was a professional: Doctor [ My Favorites ] 37: Candy: Pixie Stix 36: Vehicle: Audi 35: President: Obama 34: State visited: Utah 33: Cellphone provider: Verizon 32: Athlete: No preference 31: Actor: Tom Hiddlestone 30: Actress: Aubrey Plaza 29: Singer: Pentatonix 28: Band: Too many to pick one 27: Clothing store: Banana Republic 26: Grocery store: Smiths 25: TV show: Parks and Rec 24: Movie: Krampus 23: Website: Netflix 22: Animal: Dogs, dolphins 21: Theme park: Seaworld 20: Holiday: Halloween 19: Sport to watch: Volleyball 18: Sport to play: Rock climbing 17: Magazine: I don’t read magazines 16: Book: All Quiet on the Western Front, The Bell Jar; I love books, so this is a difficult one to pick a favorite in 15: Day of the week: Not Monday 14: Beach: Black sand beach in Costa Rica 13: Concert attended: Black Label Society 12: Thing to cook: Vegetable Dishes with Pasta or Rice 11: Food: Ramen 10: Restaurant: Any place that serves amazing ramen 9: Radio station: 91.X 8: Yankee candle scent: Apple Pie 7: Perfume: None, I fucking hate perfume 6: Flower: Sunflower 5: Color: Indigo 4: Talk show host: John Oliver 3: Comedian: Trevor Noah 2: Dog breed: Boston Terrier 1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Yes, I wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to lie

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lodelss · 4 years

Text

A View of the Bay

Aimée Lutkin | Longreads | November 2019 | 15 minutes (3,262 words)

“Oh, that’s good,” I’d say, ignoring that she had confused me for my mother as she often did after passing her 80th birthday.

***

They returned when the water receded. At first it seemed to me that that was that. Another storm survived.

***

“Look at me,” she cough-laughed. “I knew what I was doing there.”

My grandparents met at a funeral. They were cousins of each other’s cousins.

***

And then my grandmother did die.

***

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I never saw a single dog without a fence penning it in, but I did once ask my aunt if we should bring the stick.

“If you see a dog, are you going to hit it?” she asked.

New York contains many mythologies and most of them are connected to the city’s relentless ability to continue, no matter what.

***

Editor: Kelly Stout Fact checker: Sam Schuyler Copy editor: Jacob Gross

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