Courtney495's profile

SEX and the SUBURBS by Courtney Oates A conversation I had the other night left me thinking. We were discussing my single girl status and trying to make sense of my recent dating misconception when a friend of mine, an ex actually, tried to pin me as being a romance junkie. At first I was slightly insulted, searching my sarcasm for a witty comeback. How dare he accuse me of being “one of those.” One of those mushy, gushy types; those honey, baby, sugar types; those sweep me off my feet types....

I have my mother’s eyes. Minus the mascara and years. Minus a lot like the, like the tears that she fought when I used to leave for Christmas and come back with a skirt that wouldn’t fit me for at least another year cause -- maybe that’s when I’ll see him again. Those eyes, strong and a brilliant shade of espresso worth more than the coffee they make, half awake, every morning when it’s time to get up for work. An early start with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with a heart butter knifed ...

He serenaded me with his life-long song of strife. Played the violin strings as he sang what now I can only hear as a chain of whispers to his past hoping to make it clear, to make it right, or just to justify its place in the now when all I could hope was that one day he could make it just that; the past. But even through the laughs, the melody remained. It stained his writing, the words that he spoke when we shut the light and lay, tangled as one, we lay, breathing as one, we lay, and he sa...

It started to get dark as I made my way past the old pine tree that shaded the path I watched dwindle into the night before me, fade into the rusty leaves that fell from the oak who stood tall, my bare parasol, it was the most beautiful sky of all, distant flickers that brushed a scattered picture into miles of blue black canvas, and I walked, alone, with my eyes guided from above, it was just me and the sky that night, love, me and the star light that night, love, that kept me warm, kept me ...

Black Stage (spotlight on Jimmy on a cot writing): Jimmy Stands up... Jimmy: Dear Dad, I'm writing this letter on only a few hours sleep, so forgive me for the spelling errors, I remember when I was a kid you used to always get on me about my homework and the things I wrote...I am probably most thankful for this now that I'm older. You know I'm thankful for the way you always got on me. I can't thank you enough for being the father you were. Light up the background. Two kids (Jimmy age 13) an...