I realize I never fully updated everyone in regards to the job situation. I was eventually offered the job at American Eagle, but unfortunately the exact job title and responsibilities changed from when I first interviewed to when I was offered it weeks later. Meanwhile, Zales was able to give me full-time hours again, so it turned out that sticking with Zales would be more lucrative. So I stayed.
In other news, our house is looking awesome as we get more settled. We've been here almost a month now and we absolutely love it. Brian and I are also in finals week for this semester at UVU, so we're only a few tests away from freedom! Oh, and I had two prose poems published in UVU's Touchstones, one of which won Honorable Mention. Pretty cool, huh? It's quasi-autobiographical, documenting a less-than-awesome chapter in our relationship... but it sure made for a great piece of writing.
Siân Griffiths, the judge who critiqued my piece, said, "I was so taken by the way this poem turned. If ever I made the mistake of thinking I might know where the poem was headed, I soon saw my error. Yet each surprise felt utterly earned. In other words, the poem didn't surprise for the sake of surprise, but rather it surprised because life is surprising..."
She's right. My life surprises me all the time.
You weren’t with me the day I picked the green-blue, not-quite-paisley curtains which frame the not-so-great view of a dentist’s office. But he was. He whispered his advice on accent colors and pulled me away behind discounted duvets and we both know that I let him, his hands ticking over me in slow, circular motions. Framed, near the window, is a photo of a younger me pulling you back into an embrace, kissing your cheek. Other framed photos, mostly from New York City, where we were wed, frame the mirror—black-and-white images of trees, buildings and an abandoned bicycle. “I’ll return the curtains,” I suggest, replacing the batteries in our clock. “No need,” you say, with injured eyes, pulling me back to bed, back to you, all interlocking arms and legs, disturbing the duvet. I cry as you kiss my neck and out the window I only see mountains and blue, limitless sky. We both agree the view is better from the bed.