Letter to Bees

Hello,

As I sit in my backyard, bare feet nestled in soft blades of thriving green, the hum of your wings fades in and out while you take the time to visit one bloom and then another, pressing your faces into the little purple trumpets for a taste of early spring pollen. You wander inches away from my unprotected skin, leaving me to my own devices as I leave you to yours. We are both content.

I'm not sure if I was ever afraid of you, as little girls often are. Perhaps there were times I was worried by the small, quick insect capable inflicting pain that at times unexpectedly circled my head, but I recall holding still for the occasional sweat bee traversing my nine year-old arm. When my sister was stung beside Great Grandma's gooseberry bush, I was more fascinated than horrified. You've never stung me, except, of course, the time I stepped on one of you, which was entirely my own fault. Some days, when the sun warms my skin and you seem to be everywhere I turn, I rather wish I were more like Beatrix Potter, able to render you soft and intricate in watercolors. Maybe English bees are simply more willing to pose for portraits.

Your friend always,
Kara

Letter to the Guitar Player a Few Nights Ago

Dear Stranger,

I came to the rocky cliff to sit on stone and watch the fading of the world below. Mere moments after, I heard you take your guitar out of its case and begin to practice. I didn't recognize the songs. One was on the verge of familiarity, but even if you had freed the words of song to soar in the evening light, I doubt I would have been able to name it. There are so many songs that I am able to warmly greet but a few and only nod in passing to others.

I watched a sky ablaze settle into deep smoke as mist arose, a wyrm insubstantial, engulfing ebony trees. I finally left, not quite half an hour later, as darkness obscured my already failing vision. You were still playing.

I paused on my way. "You play well."

"Thanks."

The shadows cloaked your face. I don't know who you are. I don't need to; the music was enough.

With thanks,
Kara

A Letter to Tea

My dearest Cup of Tea,

The water is starting to steam. Soon I will venture back to the kitchen, rounding the counter to reach my destination. A kettle will be lifted, and water will spill forward and down into the biggest mug I could find. Then I'll have to leave you until I wander back again, slightly different from only a handful of passing minutes. Funny how that works, isn't it? I'll be the same person, but enough thoughts will have bustled through my brain to alter my mood, even if only by a smidgeon.

Holding the mug, I will feel the warmth sinking silently, softly, into my hands; skin, and then bone, warming at the gentle and firm touch of palm and pottery. The first sip will be tentative, then grateful. My insides will glow with warmth at your sweet touch. You mend all the wrongs in my little universe, even the wrongs that don't really have names and don't really exist anyway.

I stumble down the hall in the mornings to set the kettle on the stove because I love the process of slowly waking up with you in the early hours of day. When I come home, the kettle goes right back on the stove because you melt the day from me, allowing me to remember who I am, who the girl who roams the woods and fields truly is. She's more than reactions, numbers, and words. She is reflective thought and peaceful moments.

There is a special little gift you give me, my friend. You let me just exist rather than do, allow me to ponder, muse, and dream without the pressures of the world. Thank you for that.

Forever yours,
Kara

Letter to Green Bean Casserole

Dear Green Bean Casserole,

It was a pleasant surprise to be able to renew our acquaintance at the church dinner. As of late, we have been quite out of touch, which is unforgivable on my part. Indeed, I had forgotten how thoroughly I enjoy your good company. It was a pity that you were unable to extend your stay more than a few minutes. We did used to be such good friends.

Part of my purpose in writing you is to extend an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner with my family. You would be most welcome to join us, and my sister would be exceptionally pleased to see you again as well. I will personally ensure that there are enough plates. Our mutual friend Turkey has already told me that his attendance is assured, and Stuffing is eager to hear from you. I do so hope you will come.

Hope to eat see you soon,
Kara

A Letter to Spiders (#4)

Dear Spiders,

No.
Stop that.
There is no need to deploy your largest mercenaries. If you continue to do so, they will all be rendered two dimensional like the first one.
This is not a threat. This is a guarantee.
Go away, and please don't come back.

Sincerely,
Kara

Letter to Fitted Sheets

Dear F. S.,

While I admit that you do seem difficult to manage at first, you truly are a friend.

I pulled you from your temporary home and fluffed you out. What pains had gone into folding you? Instead of landing on my mattress like planned, you settled on my head. I burst into laughter. Was it the weather or the general good day? No. No such dry and logical grownup reason as that. You'd tickled my childhood, memories of pillow and blanket forts, of making a cave from blankets on the bed by use of the fan, of secret B.A.C. meetings with my sister, though I have by now forgotten what B.A.C. stood for.

I just wanted to thank you for that cool wave of joy that flooded through me when you touched the crown of my head. While you were not specifically in my childhood, you called my attention back to those happy summer days. Thank you.

Your friend and ally,
Kara

A Most Sincere Letter to Pinterest

Pinterest,

We've gotten to know each other very well in the last few months, and I find you to be more amiable than facebook. I haven't been as amazing a friend to you as you are to me, but that's because it's difficult with you being a website and all. Even so, I find that I spend inordinate amounts of time with you. If you were a person, we'd probably get along quite well.

It's just, well, I need to spend more time doing things instead of looking at pretty pictures. It's not that you're without your uses. I'll still visit for artistic purposes and practical household advice, but even though you can steal hours of my day, you can make me smile. I promise to still visit.

Yours truly,
Kara

Siblings' Day 2013

Tada!

It's a blog post! In for-warning, the writing may not be like most of my posts. I normally make a point of not listening to music while I write. It messes with the rthym and emotion of my words. However, my brother, Ace, is listening to his music audibly, and if I must have slightly off writing, I'd rather have it because of my music. We have different tastes. While he likes much of my music, I don't really like a fair amount of his. It's the same way with my sister. I love all her music, but she doesn't like Owl City or Tenth Avenue North. While we all have our individual tastes, we still claim each other for whatever reason. Well, in my sister's case, we don't have a choice, but I think that if we did I'd still like her. What her choice would be is debateable.

Today is Siblings' Day, so I figured I would write about my sister. I might write about my brothers in following years. Ace would certainly be an interesting entry, but on to my sister. It's hard to think of what story to tell. When she possibly saved my life? When she almost killed me? I don't think a story is right for now.

She was my example growing up. I aspired to be as smart and beautiful as her. I'm sure she hated that, even though she did use it to her advantage since I could get away with more things than she could. She's three years older than me, and I bawled my eyes out once she was out of sight on the road to college. In a sense, she's a part of me. The reasonable part that has a few odd but much loved quirks.

So happy Siblings' Day, big sister. I love you, and your cat misses you a lot.

Readers other than my sister: Go. Go give a hug to your brother or sister. Hold him, her, or both close and apologize for that argument last week. If you don't have a sibling, hug a pet or your parents, your kids, your spouse, or even yourself, if you live totally alone, because time forces us all apart in one way or another, but we'll all meet again at some point.

Take care,
Kara

A Letter to Spiders (#3)

Dear Spiders,

I had thought that we were living quite peacefully. I hadn't seen any of you in maybe a month, except for the one that spun a web between my bedstand and a wall, but that one was asking to be squished. Saturday I opened my closet to pull out a top, and one of you was just sitting there on a white sweater. It was kind of obvious, considering he wasn't white. Do you have to do that? When was the last time any of you were in my closet? A year and a half? I thought we'd worked out the boundaries when it came to the closet. There aren't even any bugs to eat in there!

I thank the brown recluses for staying out of this situation. As for the one that was on my sweater, look out little buddy, because you were lucky I didn't see where you landed. Next time, you'll be flattened with a flip-flop. Got it?

Sincerely,
Kara

October

This is part true and part fictionalized and it's not very well written, just so you know.

October could smell the heat and the food, behind those white doors. Cautiously, he ascended the stairs, his full coat of fur soaking up the sun's heat. There were no sounds coming through the door, so he curled up in front of it to soak up the heat that leaked out. He heard another door open and shut then open and shut again. Silently, he pressed against his door and tried to be invisible. Footsteps rhythmically approached along the sidewalk, then stopped. October looked at the human.

"Hello." She had a green jacket, white shoes, and jeans.

October stood up, stretched, and started to descend the stairs. To his dismay, she started to climb the steps and stretch her arm towards him. He glanced towards the bush beside the church steps and took a defensive stance.

She stepped back down on the concrete, "Oh. Okay. I'll leave you alone. It's alright."

October walked down the steps towards her and stopped at her feet. Tentatively, she reached out and touched him. Something in October sparked. A memory. Curling up on a little girl's bed and being petted. His mother washing his tabby fur. He pushed into this human's touch and purred. It felt so nice. Her fingers touched the scar on his ear, and it didn't hurt. When was the last time he had been stroked by a human? He rubbed against the back of her legs. Warm and safe. How he'd missed being a human's cat.

Before he knew it, the human was apologizing for having to leave and walking away. He stared after her longingly. A few feet away, she stopped and turned around, "bye." She smiled fondly at him and left. He stayed there and watched her leave in her box on wheels. One day, he knew he'd travel in one to live in a large box with people, just as he had when he was a kitten. He wouldn't forget this female that had reminded him of the warm touch and love of humanity.


I met October today after church. I don't actually know if he was a boy or if he'd ever had a sound given to him, but he has one now. October. He was so friendly, and I hadn't expected it. I hope he does have a home, but even if he doesn't, God will care for him as he does all things.

October,

Thank you for letting me meet you. I'm blessed to be able to have spent time with you. You will be warm and safe in my heart. There will always be people willing to hurt you, but never forget that there are also those who will take you in and love you. Good-bye, sweet cat. I won't forget you.

Kara

A Second Letter to Spiders

Dear Spiders (specifically the Brown Recluse spiders that live under and behind my bookshelf),

I know you're there. Waiting. Waiting for the opportune time to do me in. I do not appreciate this. You have fewer places to hide, but that doesn't mean that you have to flaunt your existence by crawling out from under the bookshelf almost every night as I go to bed, but as long as you stay still and try to camouflage with the pink carpet, even though you are irreversibly brown, I can grab a weapon and end your tiny venomous lives.

I have a weapon that is extremely good at finding and distracting you. Its name is Lil-Bit. I may not see you, but my kitty is very good at hunting you. Move once and she sees you. With my kitty, I will foil your plans of world domination! So prepare for war. If either of us sees you, you're gone. Let the war begin. There will be many casualties, on your side.

Sincerely,
Kara

Letter to Saltine Crackers

Dear Saltine Crackers,

Have I ever told you how much I love you? I really love you. Today I have wandered away from the computer several times to see if the fridge or cabinets had produced anything to eat in the last five minutes. I was continually disappointed. Then I saw you, oh package of dried food rectangles, and I knew I was saved. I took you back to my room, where I prepared to sit happily at my computer and read blogs. Much to my dismay, you were nearly stolen from me within moments of our reunion, but I did not let that silken feline take you.

Now we sit, me in my chair and you in your open package. Have I ever told you how much you mean to me? You have been beside me through thick and thin, happy sleepy days and in the aftermath of great pain. It's okay, if you were there during those fatal hours, you would have come back up, which would have been unpleasant for us both. You are of monumental worth to me. You are awesome and tasty.

Thank you,
Kara

Happy Late Fourth (2012)

Dear Reader,

Hello. It seems that every other day there is a story on the news about a fire caused by fireworks. That's the Americans. We'll set off fireworks even if the grass is so dry it just goes up in a puff of smoke. Well, individuals will. A lot of towns actually cancelled their firework displays in order to prevent an accidental fire. My family had a small get together in one place that did not cancel. We ate dinner and caught a show. It was ten p.m. when we came out, and over the buildings we could see flashes of color. I stared out the window on the way home. All around us fireworks spurted to the stars. It was beautiful. The word magic fits perfectly. It wasn't just magic on the way back. On the drive in, there were hills covered in dark green trees. Sometimes there were fields between the hills and sometimes halfway down a hill another abruptly started, as if they were crowding each other. It's easy to see them as the mountains they once were.

My Fourth of July was filled with beauty, even if it was too hot to stay out very long when the sun was still up. I know that not all of my readers are in America, but the majority is. I hope all of you had a happy day on the fourth regardless of if it was a holiday for you or not.

Kara

Letter to Comics

Dear Comics,

Do you recall when I would anticipate visiting my grandparents, just so that I could dig you out of the newspaper and curl up on the couch? I haven't forgotten. Stories told in pictures. Laughter brought to light on page. Maybe you were one simple box. Maybe you were several. I grew up borrowing my dad's books of Calvin and Hobbs, completely relating to the ones about the monster's under Calvin's bed and Hobbs's surprise attacks. Insta-Purr does that in the dark when you can't see him, other than his green eyes and white teeth that is.

Hello graphic novels. Which one of you was my first? I think the first I read was my father's Mouse Guard books. I now have nineteen of my own. It's not many, but it's enough for now. I remember sitting before the bookshelves at Borders, shifting through the new ones I hadn't seen before. I will always miss curling up with you there.

At this point I must address webcomics. There are nineteen of you guys currently bookmarked on my computer. Nineteen seems to be my number when it comes to comics, doesn't it? Girl Genius, you get most of the blame for this. If it wasn't for you I would have probably been a little less enthusiastic. Thank you and curse you. I now have a slight addiction.

I cannot write to/about comics without mentioning comic books. Comic books, I'm sorry. I don't have any experience with you, no past to draw happy memories from. Perhaps one day, we will have spent some time together in a nice quiet spot. Until then, I will regret not knowing you.

To all comics, I give a warm thanks. I would have a lot more free time with nothing to do, if I lived in a world without you. Less to read and draw.

Your Friend,
Kara

The Importance of September

Friday was the ninth of September. If you have read this post then you should know what that means. TWO YEARS!!!! The boyfriend is something special. Two years ago we barely knew each other. I still feel like I know know him well enough, but I know more than I did then.

Ten years ago (from Sunday) was 9-11. People died. There were children that waited at home for mommys and daddys that never came returned, parents that tried to contact their children, and people who rushed into the chaos to save strangers.

Dear Americans,

We have survived so much. We are young compared to other places, but we are still strong. When we lost all those lives ten years ago, we ran in to help, cried for people we didn't know, and prayed that there were survivors. People still trudge to work, children still go to school, and life seems normal. We were never the same after 9-11. Security was raised and people still cry over or are at least saddened by a picture of the twin towers, whole and complete. We'll never think like we did before. As Americans we still stand.

Sincerely,
Kara Smith

This September, this special month, remember those we lost and celebrate the lives we have.

Letter to Brown Recluse Spiders

Dear Brown Recluse Spiders,

I would appreciate it if you would live the full of your lives in the walls. It really scares me when you walk on the ceiling, dart across the floor, hang out in my pile of clean laundry, and/or crawl around in my covers. The covers are an especial no no when I am in them. Please refrain from standing on the back of my bedside table/card bard box. It makes me nervous to know you're there.

If you could stop being venomous that would be a bonus too. I would ask you to stop existing, but that's hard to do. Instead can you move across the country?

Sincerely,
Kara

Letter to Flashdrives

Dear Flashdrives,
Let me spell this out for you. You. Are. Awesome. I can move my fifteenth page story from my computer to one at work. I can show my friends things from my computer without having to drag a computer to work. You are a stroke of genius. Whoever created you was one of the greatest people to ever walk the Earth. I am serious.
Without you, I would have been dead this Monday. The printer wasn't going to work with me. That much was clear. Then there you were. Sitting on my desk as normal as anything. I plugged you in, saved the document in your memory, and safely removed you. You rode around in my pocket all day, until you were needed. You did your job splendidly.
I would have very little chance of having a computer if my mother didn't know she could use you to move files from computer A. to laptop B. In fact, I owe a lot to you little rectangular device. So many things would have killed me if you didn't exist. This is why I am thanking you. Of course, you cannot read, but I still am writing a blog post just for you.

Kara

Letter to the March Weather

Dear March Weather,
You have brought Spring to me. I thank you for that. You are indeed my friend. I will play outside in your light and roll in the grass with the cat. I will build little houses for tiny humanoids that people say do not exist. The woods will be explored with fascination as to how nice it feels outside. Until, that is, the bugs that follow you try to eat my flesh. I will of course miss the snow, but your warmth is welcomed. Thank you for this warm front of happiness.

Sincerely,
Kara