Confetti stars

i’ve got paint on my fingertips and shards of paper on my lap. there are two envelopes unsealed and undelivered beside the jar of dirty water and a blurry polaroid beside that.

god, i missed this. making things. making a mess.

and the look on your face and the sound in your voice and the feeling i think you feel when you get it. something i made. for you. it’s priceless.

i used to make cards for my mom for no reason, fold up a piece of typing paper in fours and color it with smudged ink and say something sweet, like hi, i love you, thank you for being my mommy. i don’t do enough of that.

i think a hundred sweet things every day. i grin twice as many times. and i don’t think to tell what is behind my twinkling eyes and grinning heart enough.

i haven’t written a letter to my grandmother in months.

i want to wrap the world in a big hug, awash in color and covered in glitter.

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