Adventure!

[this is my 250th post]

When the end comes does it crash like cymbols, loud and echoing? Or does is simply meander away when you aren't looking? Does it stalk off pissed off at the way things went or does it come on gradual, like the end of the day, slow -- the way you boil a frog.

Draw me a picture of the beginning. Time before time. Tomorrow. The next day. What colors should I use to scribble my dreams?

I feel as if I'm leading a hundred different lives.

Yesterday I held hands with the past. We walked the streets in ways we never had, talked of things we'd never talked about, and lived a way we'd never lived before. It was the strangest feeling. The weirdest was not feeling sad at goodbye because you are simply happy to have had an opportunity to say hello. Who knows when we'll see each other again? Remember when all that separated us was cloth walls and a couple feet?

I miss tent sleep overs and cooking ever meal over a fire. I miss writing by the ocean and having a huge whale blow of some steam only ten yards away. I miss the way the sun never set. The way the fireweed was always in full bloom. But mostly I miss how completely free I was from everything: rules, parents, society, television, movies.

Life unencumbered.

Tomorrow I'm back in the fray.

And somehow, things have changed. I woke up a different person today. Shed a layer of my self and revealed new colors.

I am invincible.

And here are the things I'm dreaming and scheming for the next 365 days.

I consider "Walking By" (something corporate) to be my favorite song:

It's been three years, and I still miss your quiet footsteps beside me as we walk down the beach. That stupid grin you'd throw back to me as you raced ahead to let me know, yeah I'm still here, but do you see how fast I can run?

Your tail wags conducted my heart beats. We were always so in sync.

I still expect to see you every journey that brings me home and am disappointed with every front door opening that fails to reveal your smiling face.

I know my grief is not rational, that I've moved into some sort of realm where this is absurd but I can't help it -- I just want to see you again.

I've been thinking that maybe Christmas is hard because it reminds you of the things you want the most but can never have. One more day -- not even that. Just one more walk down the beach.

I think of you so often.

Dear Samantha,
Can you feel my heart woven into yours? I remember holding you in those last moments reassuring you that it was ok for you to die now. Go, rest in peace. It's okay for you to leave me.
My most selfless hours. But how can your peace be restful when now, I'd utter just about anything to bring you back... Were you watching as I had to edit the present tense verbs out of this like crazy? To me, you still aren't gone. You are still here, breathing, running, watching, hidden from some secret post waiting for me to find you.

The beach grass has receded further and the tides swing larger, but they are still here. The sea glass comes and goes but still needs collecting. The cabinet in the bathroom still smells like dogfood every time I open it. But where have you gone?

I walk the beach expecting you to return to my side, but still you aren't there. My heart calls for you, but all I find is broken bits of glass scattered across the sand. The universe mocks my grief with shooting stars suggesting that I could wish you back. But all the birthday candles I've blown out are a poor reminder of the long years without your calming presence my side.

All those times you ran off on your own adventures and now you're on the biggest one of all. I hope you find what you are looking for.

Where there's gold, there's a gold digger.

All those times, I could never find the right words to say. Clumsily searching for some sort of antidote. Cure. And then I let time slip by without saying anything at all. Which was worse?

In the early morning everything unravels; The night comes but never at the right moment. Too long, too short. The stars fall off their woven masterpiece. Everything collapses outwards away from its itself til nothing's left but beads and yarn.

So stitch me a sunrise. Show me those perfect winter mornings where everything's illuminated. Trees sagging under inches of new snow - bending but beautiful. Show me the world painted over where everything familiar is suddenly different.

And it is.

I didn't want to say goodbye to you. It's not like I didn't know this was coming but it still all feels incomplete. Hello. Goodbye. Hello. Goodbye. Endless cycles. Revolutions. Me caring, you looking so indifferent. I hate this feeling, this constant inadequacy.

Who knows where I'm walking. I have a broken compass in one hand and a treasure map in another. Maybe I'll get there, someday.

sorry I've been gone.
My free time has been devoted to a writing project I developed over thanksgiving break. I'm finally putting pen to paper. I've never been this excited to write a story down.

I will try to write more here, but my mind is pretty focused on getting this story written.