snatches of summer

I've been living life with paper and pen lately because paper and pen are soothing and because I've been spending my days outside.

Thank heaven for summer.  These moments are from the pages of my red journal.

I'm at the beach in a white dress and the sun is shining.   The wind is blowing and I can smell my shampoo.

Yesterday was too good.  I went to the library and found a book called The Local Girls and read it in my favorite spot by the window before I met my aunt for lunch at a cafe.  I ordered chocolate cake and the largest ice tea.  Then I drove to the beach and changed in the car and laughed in the sand with friends.

Summer is officially here.

I'm nervous about going home.  There is no one here for me and that makes me sad, but there are a lot of people, a lot of nice boys for me in Omaha and that makes me even sadder.

It's like when someone tells me about a book that I know I'll love.

But I don't read it because I know it'll be good and I'll lose my life to it.

It's like that.

My car is trying to murder me.  She stopped running while a big bus was behind her and I was so afraid I couldn't scream.

I told her if she didn't start behaving I'd drive her out to the oldest, scariest hill billy road and leave her there.

My dad laughed and said, You even have a relationship with your car.


I told him life is one big messy relationship and this one is about to get dumped.


I really want a jeep because then I could take the top off and the doors off and I'd always be able to smell my shampoo.  My brother used to have one and it was the most dangerous I've felt.  Hair long and all over, dress blowing, heels working the clutch and gas and the music filling the street.

But that's not a sensible choice.  They're gas eaters and tumblers and too pricey for a student.

Darn.

My parents think I should work two jobs.  They think school will be breezy.

But I'm a little worried.  I haven't been on that side of a desk for a while and I haven't taken a proper English class since high school.

Besides.  I don't want to breeze.  If its not demanding, I'll be plain mad.

My mom says I'll be so busy I won't even think about boys.  I told her she better pray it's not true because I might just stay in school forever then.

I'd like to not think about them.

I had a great talk the other night in the hot tub.  And she looked at me and said, Where are these conversations?  I know everyone wants them, I know they're inside of all of us, but why don't they come out.  I am so desperate for them.


I tell people that I don't understand what they do and they look at me the same way I'm looking at them.

Last night I went to a dark, smoky place with a friend.  Two men came and sat with us.  They said we must be from out of town and we smiled.  She told them we were from Alaska, the northern part and that we were just passing through.  She said it beautifully and I believed her too.

I was tired and so we left and when I got home I curled on the couch and stared at the screen while a movie that used to make me laugh played.

I drove to the Ironman triathlon on Sunday.  I've never seen so many beautiful bodies.  It was good for my spirit to see people straining, pushing for something.  It was so very good.

We talked about our fathers while we were standing there.  We told stories and loved them.  I told them mine used to call me Grace because I'm so clumsy trippy.  They laughed.  But you're so poised.  So composed.


Are you kidding me?  I'm out of sync and I lose my rhythm.  Don't you see me?

I'm thinking when I walk.  Thinking that the right needs to go there and push those shoulders back.  Chin forward.

I'm going to tell you a secret.  I'm afraid of not thinking.  Half of the time I hate it.  But I'd hate myself more if I hid from it.   It's the reason that I've never had more than a couple of drinks and that there are some places I never want to go.

I was terrified of being boring for a long time.  But then I caught myself yawning during their stories of the night before.  I caught myself knowing the end before they even began.

Boring is not thinking.

I've been in The Beatitudes lately.  They're hard.  And I love them desperately.

They're helping me to understand life better and that is important.

I was on a four wheeler in my dress and sandals with a tackle box strapped on the back.  I was up high in the greenest, greatest spot on the way to hidden lakes.  I was with a friend and he pushed me into this part of the world that I was scared to go to.

And once I got there, I couldn't close my eyes.  I was afraid to blink, it was so overwhelmingly unmissable.

Wow.  Look at You, God.  Just look at You.