Aryn Henning Nichols

LULA MCABEE, AGE 13

All the joys of being a child, 

the clanking sound of a rollercoaster ascending to its peak,

 a stinging, rosy face coming inside from the snow.

All of the things kids are meant to love, like 

soft blankets and 

Christmas presents and 

playing with toys and 

childhood joys. 

So easily forgotten yet somehow always missed, like the fleeting warmth of the world when you haven’t yet learned how cold it really is. 

So your honey and jam jars run out eventually;

leaving you empty and then, inevitably, 

you mourn the simplicity of field trips and ice cream covered faces and running around too loudly in the yard at house parties with your sister. 

As I move in my mind,

 and heart,

 alongside the years and spinning of the Earth, 

I run out of time to feel full

And the small life I’ve created for myself evaporates into thin air, 

leaving me to wonder:

When did this happen?

 How did I not notice the time slipping away?

Maybe the old, empty jar of hope I’ve left on my windowsill, imagining that it might soak up even just a drop of love from the Sun, will need to learn to find the energy it needs in unexpected places. 

So, I start to take it out with me when I leave the house. 

To the coffee shop where the familiar man waves to me from the corner. 

I don’t need to give my name for my order because the barista, Leroy, remembers. 

It follows me into the car with my dad where I can see his expressions, realizing I make 

the exact 

same 

ones. 

I take my jar with me during the summer and scoop up some of the thick fog covering the river before sunrise. 

I steal the laughter from my friends and I as we reference some obscure inside joke, 

and slip that into my jar too. 

My jar comes everywhere with me now. Sooner than I realize, replenishing it becomes second nature. I watch it grow and with some occasional support, it learns to flourish on its own; I no longer need to keep a watchful eye on it all the time. 

It comes to school with me and fills when I’m relieved to pass an assignment or when I’m proud of something I’ve done,

And at home the sweet scents from shower soaps waft into the jar and the smell of candles I light on my nightstand;

the starry colors of the jar twist and shimmer in the flickering light of flame. 

And before bed, I see those swirling colors and think they’re all too similar to the galaxy which makes up a person; intertwining with others, forming constellations of who we are.

Moving and 

changing and 

growing and

learning. 

Every now and then, I notice a slight discoloration, a pinkish hue that stains the glass, which is evidence of the bright, loud, saturated colors which once occupied this jar and my life.

I find my joy in those quieter places I once ignored in childish arrogance. So this jar of mine fills now in different ways and takes different hues. 

Editor’s Note:  We created Future Focused, a new Inspire(d) column written by pre-teens and teens, to help give the next generation an opportunity to share their voices. Partnering with Dana Hogan, the Extended Learning Program teacher at Decorah Middle School, we offered prompts around the idea of abundance for this issue (and Dana had the genius idea of a metaphorical “Abundance Jar”). Students submitted some really great work, and five were chosen for this Inspire(d). Check out the rest of them, and all the Future Focused submissions published so far! Here’s to Listening to the Next Generation!

– Inspire(d) Editor-in-Chief Aryn Henning Nichols

BRENT BURKEY, AGE 13

The burnt, dry, ground is scorched in the sun. Suffocating heat ripples around me. Birds chirp in the distance. I look toward the glistening green and shaded woods. They seem quiet and calm, but inside they are full of life. That is only if you look deep inside. Not just from the outside but deep into the roots of the woods. Only then can you see what the woods are all about.

The woods are not scary. They are much more than what they seem. They are not just a lot of dirt and plants, but a deep and complex system. The cold wet ground is a safe haven away from the heat. Mighty lush trees provide shelter to all, no matter who. Mice all the way to moose roam and savor the summer woods.

Smells of bark and unique plants draw me in. As I get closer, the more I feel, see, and wonder. I step into the shade and realize what it’s all about. The woods don’t just bring a great physical feeling but also a place to clear the mind and become one with your surroundings.

Editor’s Note:  We created Future Focused, a new Inspire(d) column written by pre-teens and teens, to help give the next generation an opportunity to share their voices. Partnering with Dana Hogan, the Extended Learning Program teacher at Decorah Middle School, we offered prompts around the idea of abundance for this issue (and Dana had the genius idea of a metaphorical “Abundance Jar”). Students submitted some really great work, and five were chosen for this Inspire(d). Check out the rest of them, and all the Future Focused submissions published so far! Here’s to Listening to the Next Generation!

– Inspire(d) Editor-in-Chief Aryn Henning Nichols

HATTIE SAUER, AGE 13

In the window sill, there is a jar,

Although it may have a little scar,

The jar holds strong,

It holds the memories from my past,

Making room for all that will pass.

Up and at ‘em at 4 in the morning,

The sun has yet a new aborning,

Putting on my neon orange,

And the boots that almost fit,

Getting in the truck, barely awake,

Hiding in the corn stalks

Making a maze

Seeing the birds swooping in

Getting ready for the big win.

The breeze in my hair,

Blowing it everywhere,

The smell of the earth,

That makes life all worth,

The sound of the waves crashing into the shore,

It’s almost like I’ve been here before,

Swinging in my hammock, dear,

Reading a book for all to hear,

Getting up after a snooze,

And it’s time to put on my shoes,

Go to the bank,

And cast my line,

Hoping to catch my dinner,

All mine.

Stomach turning,

People yearning,

You hear the starter’s gun,

It’s time to run,

Pound pound pound,

It’s time to pass,

Let’s hope that I can last,

Hearing the crowd,

Chanting loud,

Seeing the end,

My legs might mend,

Finishing strong,

Maybe I was meant to do this all along,

The sun is setting,

It’s getting dark,

Begging to stay outside,

Or else I’d cried,

Lightning bugs all around,

Barley making a sound,

Click, click, click

Family near,

Friends dear,

Storing this fire in my jar,

So that it won’t be so far,

Bringing a light to my day,

So that it can always stay.

Editor’s Note:  We created Future Focused, a new Inspire(d) column written by pre-teens and teens, to help give the next generation an opportunity to share their voices. Partnering with Dana Hogan, the Extended Learning Program teacher at Decorah Middle School, we offered prompts around the idea of abundance for this issue (and Dana had the genius idea of a metaphorical “Abundance Jar”). Students submitted some really great work, and five were chosen for this Inspire(d). Check out the rest of them, and all the Future Focused submissions published so far! Here’s to Listening to the Next Generation!

– Inspire(d) Editor-in-Chief Aryn Henning Nichols