a letter to sarah

 

dear sarah,

for the past six years you've been with us, you've already done so much for me. thank you for cheering me up and making me laugh. i love your crazy dances and your jokes and, yes, your singing (even though you sing the same songs over and over again every single minute i'm with you). thank you too for constantly telling me i'm pretty. i don't receive compliments like those very often, so it really means a lot to me. i also like that you make me cards and little art projects, and that you bring cookies to my room, and that you're almost always ready to offer your help when i need you. through your example, i learned that being kind is already a reward in itself. i admire how you're always so quick to forgive people too. you showed me that love meant keeping no record of wrongs. many times i've seen your patience and your willingness to sacrifice your wants for those of others, and i'm just so proud of you.

i don't tell you this very often, but i love you so, so, so much. thank you for being the nicest, sweetest, cutest, funniest, prettiest, coolest sister ever. :)


wishing you a happy birthday,
ate hannah

Storyteller: Better Than Paris

“Paris at night,” she marveled. “There’s nothing in all the world that could compare.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said. “Everything is so magical. Although, I can think of some things better than this.”

“Better than Paris? I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Oh, but it is.”

“Give me an example, then. Tell me one thing that’s better than Paris.”

“Home.”

“Home?” she laughed. “You think being home is better than Paris?”

“You’re surrounded by the people you love when you’re at home. It’s nice to go out on adventures, but there’s nothing quite like being with people who love you and who will always be there for you. Many people often forget that about home.”

They were silent for a while.

“What about you?” he asked. “What do you like?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “I quite like books.”

He laughed. “You think books are better than Paris?”

“Maybe. It just amazes me how mere words can do so much. They can make you cry and laugh. They can make you forget your troubles, even for just a little while.” A sad, wistful look crossed her face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. She smiled faintly, then looked up at him.

“Wow,” he said softly. “You know what else is better than Paris?”

“What?”

“You.”

-----

{EWW. That was cheesy, I know. I was trying out some writing exercises while listening to music when a song from the film Hugo started playing. This was the result. I've also never, ever written cheesy romance-y things before, but people grow when they try things they've never, ever done before, so I thought I'd give it a go. I actually quite like how it turned out, even though I know one day I will look back at this and cringe.

What about you? What do you think? Constructive criticism is welcome!}