Sunday, July 8, 2012

wind and home

tonight the heat finally broke. at least a little bit. the rotating sign at the chiropractor's office said it was seventy seven degrees just before nine pm. the sunset was neon pink, and that is no exaggeration. nights like tonight are some of my favorites, and i'm glad i was able to experience one more of them before heading off into oppressive atlanta heat, followed shortly by south african winter.

i walked around my neighborhood after dark tonight. i took my dog for his last "klaw;" he's smart and has figured out what we mean when we say "walk," so we've begun to spell it backwards. he still picks up on what we're talking about. there was a breeze tonight, so because it was dark and hard to see, one of the only things guiding me was the sound of the wind through the leaves. (the long street that i took around back doesn't have any street lights, so it's walk at your own risk come nighttime.) i wondered if the breeze would sound the same where i'll soon be living. that maybe sounds silly, but i imagine that different types of trees sound differently in the wind.

when i was younger i used to live in the bedroom at the end of the hall. one window faced our neighbors' driveway, and the other two faced the street. the one that faced the neighbors' house was nearest to the highest point on the roof, the top of the triangle, if you will. in that top of the triangle, for years my mom had wind chimes hanging there. i've always been one to sleep with my windows open regardless of temperature; not in winter obviously, but you get the point. some summers my windows would never be closed. i spent years listening to those wind chimes: during rain storms, in heavy snow, and on warm summer nights like tonight. every time i hear them i think of home. i get chills each time i hear the beginning of welcome home by radical face. ( she told me to take a set with me, and at first i thought she was a little crazy. but now i'm thinking that it would be a really nice reminder of home when i'm so far away.

a deer stood in the road and stared at us until we got within fifteen feet of him. then he decided we were too close for comfort and bounded away. an opossum scurried across the road ahead of us later in our walk. maybe it's just me, but it seems like there are more lightning bugs this summer than ever before. and i'm not just talking in new york; i've been to thirteen states since graduation, so i feel like i have some authority to make this claim. i stood against a fence and stared into the woods at them all. it was beautiful, like a scene you'd see in a movie. i hope south africa has copious amounts of lightning bugs, because i'll be rul bummed otherwise.

tonight i cried like i've only ever cried one other time in my life. it's different than when you're at the funeral of a family member. at a funeral, you're crying because you know you won't see someone again ever. but the type of crying today is when you love someone(s) and they're in one place while you're off to another. and it's a shitty feeling and it hurts. the only person i've ever cried for like this was mario. and my host family. but mostly mario. that day leaving peru i was a mess more than i've ever been. i guess it's hitting me like this because i never went away to college. i was always within earshot of my house, able to come home for dinner or to wash laundry or just to hang out. and now im leaving. to go far away for a long time with presently unknown access to electricity, water, and internet. i have a newfound respect for members of the armed forces, in the sense that i cannot fathom how they go through these routine goodbyes with no certainty of their return. i know my family will visit me next christmas, and that's comforting to me. but this removal of other comforts is something i'm going to have to get used to with time.

also, i don't leave until tuesday morning, and it's only sunday night.

1 comment:

  1. And so this morning, my darling daughter, you began the next chapter in your life. I am certain that you will shed your light and beauty everywhere you go, and touch all those that you come in contact with in a positive way. Remember that I am with you every moment of every day - the chimes will be my way of speaking to you. I love you and look forward to hearing about what lies ahead. Be well - Mom