letters to time

Dear long past,

 I'm sitting here wishing you had let me in on what I was going to deal with. Looking back at who you were then and what you said to me all the time. There is this voice in my head of everyone you ever told me with that says "One day Zach, one day."
 I feel torn about weather I should be apologizing to you or try to put you out of my mind as best I can for all the times you excluded me, alienated me, gave me what I wanted then didn't give me the guts to just lean in that 6 inches, that 90% and just kiss you. All the times that I trusted you and looked up to you and you ran off and locked the door behind you leaving me with the sound of your laughing on the other side and a bite on my shoulder, a phone in my hand, and tears in my eyes as you tell me there is someone better than me.
 But like I said, you gave me a lot. You made me who I am. You built towns with me and together we knocked them down. You gave me all the hugs I needed and told me what I needed to know. You did your best to teach me everything I needed to know. We may have had our fights every now and then and I always said things that I didn't mean and I ignored your advice but all in all you've been good to me. Next time just do it the same but, uh, better. And tell short past (I know the two of you must have met at some time) I said "hi" and that I'll talk to him later.

I miss you,
Zach

Week 1 & 2

"Hi! Its Zach again. What the heck have I gotten myself into this time!?"
 Jareb Popiel

 Twenty minutes ago I was running a metal comb with a sharp whirring blades that could easily take off a finger over a two hundred pound animal. Why? As is the case with most crazy things I get myself into I didn't have a heck of a lot to do with it. I just let happen.

 About three and a half weeks ago I was out with my family for my dads birthday. We ate and I got to see my older sister. After we had dropped her off the cell phone and my mom answers in her bright friendly phone voice "hello... Yeah. I'm good, how are you. No I haven't. I think he would want to, yeah... Well he's right here I can ask him." then she turns to me and says "Hey Zach? Do want to shear alpaca for three months?"

 So clearly I said yes, clearly here I am and I am going to blog about it when I can.

This is Zach Harvey... Good day.

Its alright to cry.

I remember when I was a kid sitting watching Sesame street and all their music segments. That music has stuck with me and over the years it surfaces and I have little flashbacks of my life then. 

 I've been working on a few things lately, I've been doing some research on a project to cast a set of pewter buttons for a swiss military jacket and overcoat, I've also been recording a few songs that I have had in my head just for the fun of putting them down and spending time at home. One of the songs that I'm working on is just yelling to uke. The song is about crying. In recording this song I've found a man whose life I am vastly impressed by. Rosey Grier is something like an intentional Forest Gump. Born July 14, 1932 in Cuthbert, Georgia, Rosy has had one of the most interesting and dynamic lives that I've seen in a while. He's 


this is not done but I'll just post it now because Rachel is chomping at the bit.

The Return (part II)

If you want to read part one of "my" story go to my sisters blog.

About five months ago I saw my family for the first time in almost a year. I returned in a daze.

 I watched as the ground zoom under me as my plain touched the ground thinking "Is this real? Am I really home after eight months?"

 I looked around as the people bustled around me to get to wherever they needed to go as I did the same.

 I felt like a stranger in a world that had seemed to leave me behind and is now half heartedly welcoming me back with halls of neon signs like long outstretched arms where, on reaching my beaming family I felt the embrace. Every one of them happy to see me regardless of what I had done, accomplished or what stories I had to tell. They filled me in on the world that I had left and told me all the things that I had missed; The double rainbow guy, Justin Bebber, Julian Smith, Old Spice commercials and the baking dog man as we walked through the supper market full of choices that I had almost forgotten about.

 I watched my girlfriend and my family thinking "So this is what a face that has missed her love and is with him again really looks like, this is what a mom and dad do when they get a son back, this is how a grown up little brother acts when he sees his brother and tries his best to be cool, this is how giddy little sisters giggle and this is how an older sister is. Looking to see if the brother that left her months ago is still who he was when he left."

 I know I have changed a lot and seeing my family changed but the same made me realize how much I had changed. I'm no longer the kid that got the forbidden army solders at the dollar store or stuck his gum on the bubble gum wall down the street. I'm not the brother that carried the older sister on his back with her arms around his neck, while trying his best to breath. In the past moths I had processed my life, lined it up in my head. Trying to find out who I am and what I believe.

 I missed my sister while I was gone. I forgot about all the things that she said that had become "Taylor-isms". things like "Oh, go bite a rock!", "Shut your tooth box" or "Really Zach? Really?..."

 I always looked up to my sister for her drive, her determination, her tastes, her education. I gloated to my team about her 4.0 GPA and her full ride (and then some) scholarship. I told myself and others that I never really wanted that kind of lifestyle. That, that sort of thing just wasn't me but inside I wished that I could have done better. I was ashamed of my education and lack of drive.

 I was unsure if that plexiglass relationship, that was strong and resilient but I somehow never noticed, had lost its strength or shine because of my lack of personal effort to let my family know how I was.

 I was there. She made the same funny remarks she always did that I used to get so mad about as I told the same meandering stories of my exploits and injuries I had in emails. But she was changed too. She was a person that had learned about the world around her, saw it for what it was and what it could be. She had built a network of friends (Cute collage friends) that I was jealous of. She had come out of the shell that used to put her one step behind me in social situations. She had developed a deeper and more unapologetic style that set her apart from the people she spent her time with. But I know it's true. Even if Taylor is different, which I know she must be, she will still be my sister, and she will always be there for me, and I will be there for her. Even if one of us is in Africa and the other is in college.