It's been almost a year since I started my bloggy journey and a lot has changed. Jordan no longer lives next door. I miss his rooftop melodies that this blog was named for. I never had a chance to really talk to Jordan, but sometimes I dreamed of being his friend; of stretching out next to him on the roof adjacent to his apartment as he strummed softly on his guitar. I wish we had become friends. I think we would have had fun.

I don't cry very much now. Maybe I've moved on. Actually, I know I have. It hasn't been as much as I would have liked, but every step counts. I'm happy now. I have no complaints. I have many fears, but I know my life is good and I can't help but be thankful for the blessings I experience. Sometimes I even remind myself that it is possible to be thankful for the failures, too. See, I would never be who I am today were it not for my mistakes. Every misstep has impacted my life in such a way that I have to change. I have to see something new about myself every time I fall. I have learned that the world is not always good or kind, but this life is worth it.

I still struggle, don't get me wrong. There's not a day that goes by when I don't think, "Will I ever be in love? Is there somebody out there for me? Will I have the chance to have my own family?" It's all I've ever dreamed of, the only end I've ever strived for. I hope, but don't hold my breath. I know. That sounds over dramatic. Well, it might be, but there's no sense in holding out for something that may or may not happen. And heck, maybe my day will come, but it might not be for another 5 years. There's no need to live every day hoping for something that's still not on the horizon.

Now as my blog approaches it's first birthday I think of where I've been and how far I've come. Rooftop melodies will soon be moving from the window of my second story apartment to the window of my second floor room in a huge 5 bedroom house. Soon I'll stare out upon a yard full of grass and the sparse foliage that comes with a newer development. But the song won't change. So stay tuned. Spring is in full bloom and summer love is just around the corner. Oh, and I'll need you to help me celebrate rooftop melodies' first birthday.

small town snapshot sunday

Well, this is an idea I got from On the Front Porch, a blog that I have started following. It's a good idea, so I thought I'd participate.

I realize it's hardly Sunday anymore, and the day might actually be officially over by the time I get this post out, but as I spend the day in a small town (no internet access) I didn't have time to

get it out earlier. Next time I'll write it in advance...

Well, southern Minnesota has seen plenty of excitement over the last week. Excitement we could do without. Here is some of the damage that was left behind after the tornados passed our way.

It's always amazing to me how one tree can be left untouched and the one right next to it is demolished, or how one side of the street is completely wiped out and the other side looks like it never even knew a tornado was there. And doesn't it really get you how just hours after a storm passes through, the sun is shining, bird are singing, but the whole world looks like it has been shaken like a snow globe. Everything changes but everything moves on. I will never understand it.

The good news is that not too many houses were damaged. Looks like the park got the worst of it. Thank God. Also, nobody was seriously injured, that I know of, and that's the most important thing.

Well, I guess even summer, my love, has its downfalls. Oh well, nobody's perfect.

unfaithful lover

I swear, if you could attribute a gender to the seasons, summer would most definately be a man. He is the most unfaithful lover. He comes and then he goes. One night he's all inviting and intimate, the next night he's sending an icy breeze in your direction. (hmmm... don't look now, but that sounds more like a PMS-y woman) I'm also choosing not to recognize the last statement that was made, and continue to say that summer is a bi-polar male lover. 

Of course, the real problem with this whole scenario is that it is still May. This fact just blows my whole tyrade out of the water. Being as its still May, it means that it is not officially summer at all, but, in fact, still spring. But... but the other night it was summer... It was summer in my heart, and that's what really matters! Right?

Wow, I just realized that this fell to a new level. Not only is summer (which is not actually summer) my unfaithful lover, he is also not here but here, but only because I feel that way. I am starting to sound even more like the stereotypical "woman" about whom men talk. You know, in the exact way in which I am stereotypically talking about "men," or in this instance, summer, who is a man. OMGosh! Did you understand that? Maybe, if you are an understanding woman (if anybody even reads this! and that's a big if) you will know exactly what I just said. Otherwise, I don't expect anybody to understand. (Except for summer of course. He must understand and act accordingly--or at least pretend like he understands.)

Oh well. Suffice it to say, summer is in the doghouse right now. He's not really sure why, because he's not here yet, but do I ever know! He knows too, but only because I'm already mad at him. The reason for my tantrum will never be understood by him, but he does know that the only way out is with flowers and chocolates. But not too many chocolates, or I will eat them all and feel fat. And THAT will put him back in the doghouse. Oh, and by flowers and chocolates I really mean warm breezes and sunshiney days (with a few picture clouds). He is also expected to be able to interpret that. Well, I just read the forecast for tomorrow and its calling for a high of 76, which might just get him out of the doghouse, but not back in the bedroom. Seventy-six is good enough for sleeping on the couch. It's a start. A small one, but still, a start. 

summer love

I know that it is officially summer. I know this because I am laying in bed next to my open windowwith only a sheet to cover me . I can hear the sound of my neighbor's guitar pouring softly into my room from the roof of his apartment, where he often plays. Jordan, the neighbor never used to play guitar on the rooftop so much, but lately he does. Maybe he's in love. And why shouldn't he be? It's summer, after all, and even I am in love. In love with summer, that is. 

A couple walks by, quarrelling. Perhaps its not a real fight. You know, maybe just one of those "testing the waters" fights. I hear the girl say, "You get us an apartment, and maybe I will..." Their voices fade into the night. 

Thump, thump, thump, THUMP! I see Jordan's sneakers dissappear as he runs through the window into his home. I wonder why. Maybe he heard his phone ringing. I wish he would stay and serenade me until I fall asleep, but not only is that wishful thinking, its weird. Who wishes that their neighbor, whom they've only talked to twice, will serenade them into sweet slumber? Not many, I would venture.

Another sound fills, quite literally, my ears. Its the train. Our train is unmistakable. It is so loud sometimes, that it drowns out the TV. This is the conductor who I like. He only sounds the horn at intersections, main ones, I assume. There is another conductor to whom I want to do personal bodily harm every time he (or she, for that matter) passes through town. He actually holds down the horn for a good two minutes, making me want to tear him from limb to limb every time he comes. 

The sound of metal scraping loudly on metal ends and only the bell at the RR crossing just after the bridge remains now to remind me that the train has indeed been here. For all its faults, I like the train. I like the sounds it makes and the smell of the train tracks. I like walking alone or accompanied on the tracks, and although I must be too old, I like to balance on the rails. I'm pretty good at it, even if I do say so myself. 

A car drives by, somewhere, with the radio playing loudly and I have decided that its time to go to sleep. And as I blow out my scented candle and snuggle up, I thank God, I really do, for summer. It feels like an accomplishment to simply have arrived. Sometimes I think its amazing that I ever make it through the winter. Every year I promise myself I will move south, far away from here. But without winter maybe summer wouldn't be so sweet. Ah but who am I kidding? I love summer, and I'm not sure I would ever get bored of it. Summer love. Someday it will be my theme. We will marry and be together always, til death do us part.