She’s Big Snowflakes and Being Out in the Woods and the Color Green

She’s big snowflakes and being out in the woods and the color green. She is the crack of bonfires and shooting stars and mountains. She’s the sound of thunderstorms in May and wet socks in rain boots from splashing in puddles. She’s learning, different cultures, and the smell of old books. She’s her love of history, her refusal to eat nothing but German chocolate, and ice cream. She’s warm blankets and the comfort of being surrounded by people she cares about. She is sunrises and puppies and kitties and general warm fuzzies. She’s nerdy puns and people who aren’t afraid to be who they want to. She’s confidence and awkwardness and flying elbows while dancing. She’s twinkle lights and the north woods and warmth.

She is nothing if not dramatic.

You want to give her the world as her stage.

He’s the Glue on Your Hands Right Before You Peel It Off and Old Books

He’s the glue on your hands right before you peel it off and old books. He’s the sound of sneakers on a gym floor and the glow-in-the-dark prize from deep inside the cereal box. He’s the smell of pencil shavings and old crayons and the hair tie that gets stuck in your hair. He’s an orchestra tuning and a soda can opening. He’s relief and nostalgia and hysterics and guilty pleasures. He’s every scar with a story and peeing after holding it all day. He’s the squeak from fresh cheese curds and mint ice cream and the feeling of paint squishing through your fingers. He always guesses the ending of a murder mystery wrong. He’s the shivers from a perfect song and getting a back massage. He’s the feeling of someone else’s hands running through your hair and impromptu water balloon fights.

He’s the summer vacation you always dreamed of.

You wouldn’t change a thing.