Scattered souls of bread angels

I accidentally poured out my bible this morning, all the scraps of paper with cursive scrawled on their surfaces, front and back, criss-crossing sermon annoucements and index cards. There are bits of poetry, the verses with heavily crossed out sections and notes in the margins, and prayers written when they are too harsh to be spoken. And some are both, I think. I'm bad at that--instead of keeping a comprehensive journal, when I need to write, I grab whatever happens to be closest. Which would explain, if you were wondering, the three paragraphs of worried debating scrunched between my biochemistry notes for chapter six. It frustrates me, because I'd like to keep all of it together--I might want it someday.

Call it superstitious, but sometimes I think that I pour a tiny bit of my soul out onto each piece of paper I touch with a pen. Sometimes I think that if all those scraps of paper were collected, gathered into one place and allowed to take whatever shape they desired, there would be an exact likeness of what we call a personality, a character, a soul, whole and complete--staring back steadily, framed from the essence of the words on the page. I wonder if I would like what I saw.

Anyway, I was just thinking, after all that, that that's why I love to read what people write (got to love the three 'that's'). Because it lets you look into a piece of them that they may not even know they're showing. It's why I love to get emails from people like Becca, because when I read them I can hear her; she's so good at putting herself on paper. And Lubke; when I read his prose and poetry, several years ago, I knew we'd be friends before we even met. And we were.

My mom is here. She came down to visit today, and of course, being the wonder she is, helped me get the house clean. Which is why my bible got dumped out, which is why I started thinking about scraps of souls seperated from each other. Which is why, although this blog could be completely revised and the idea I wanted to get across would actually make sense, and my grammer would be more aesthetically pleasing, I will simply let it go. Mom is pulling fresh bread out of the oven, and I think the angels just began to sing. That'd be a terrible thing to miss. I think my nose just started quivering from sheer happiness.