The Things I Carry

I carry guilt covered by Grace.

I carry the blood of my mother, my father, and my Savior.

I carry the scars of my past, which cannot bind my future.

I carry the hopes, the wishes, the dreams of what I want that future to look like.


I carry the cry of the horse, ever ready in my throat to surprise.

I carry 12 pounds of hair, thicker than it looks.

I carry a ponytail holder to tame it when needed.

I carry two rings, two bracelets, and a necklace, all with deeper meaning than they appear:

A silver pendant with two golden butterflies, forever bound to each other.

Silver wrapped around sapphire to show where I’ve been and how far I’ve come.

Inscripted silver, marking a promise to one I’ve not yet met.

Bands to remind me of what I deserve and what I must do.


I carry the genes for blue eyes as well as brown, and blonde hair steadily turning brown.

I carry abilities the Dark Lord knows not, and the worlds of a thousand books in my heart.

I carry the heat of summer in my soul, and the scent of snow and cinnamon rolls on my skin.

I carry a 40 pound bookbag (okay, maybe 23) for school eight hours, five days a week:

                12 pens, four notebooks, a laptop, three folders, a calculator, two calendars, three books, two textbooks, and loose leaf pages galore.


I carry the stress of who I am, who I should, and who I want to be.

I carry a reputation created for me, that most never try to look past.

I carry the weight of medals won, and lessons learned.

I carry laughter, inside jokes, and unbroken promises;

                A glimmer of mischief, a streak of troublemaking, and a dose of reality.


I carry the key to my own freedom.

I carry songs and plays, and a love of the stage.

I carry my friends and family, and when I stumble, they carry me in return.

I carry the name and responsibilities of who I am;

                The Good.

                The Bad.

                The Ugly.

                The Healed.


These are the Things I Carry.

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