Sad Eyes
I was going to write this post Monday night, but my power went out. I was going to write it on Tuesday night, but ended up at the boy's house followed by beer pong followed by passing out at 3:30 am. So here I am.
Monday I went for a long walk in the dark. The tide of winter is pulling away, but the wind was cold. I was cold. I brought my camera, ostensibly to see the cross lit purple, and to capture the city. I wandered past the gym, past the stadium, up to the monument at the base of the mountain. Floodlights set my shadow dancing behind me. I was feeling melancholy. My first glimpse of the purple lights brought tears to my eyes. Not for death, but for change. I sat on the stones and watched a solitary figure wander through the lions, in and out of light. He looked familiar, a ghost of the past brought to life before my eyes, and I stood to follow him. Pulled through the city, I wandered the park for an hour until my hands grew too cold to grip my camera. I retreated. Winter's grip still held fast to the night.
It brought so many thoughts to mind, and here I am helpless to rekindle any of them. Thoughts of my impending departure, thoughts of life, of change. This time it is real, and I cannot ignore the facts laid out before me. Life is change. My memory walks with me here, whenever I take to the streets. Familiar faces and locations, twisted by images in my mind.
Yesterday swelled with spring, rivers of mud caked on the streets. I had slept fitfully, stumbled home to find my path had become clear. I mailed my acceptance, I mailed my life. I am going, officially now there is no turning back, my name on that piece of paper. I visited my lover, and through the hours we spent I knew it was fleeting. I smiled, because it comes so easily when there is no pressure, no concern that one might fall. I smiled because he is lovely, and kind, and makes me happy, and that perhaps if there had been time it would have worked out. If I could only distill this effortless affair and sprinkle it liberally on my future life.
The evening fell away as I arrived to a crowded bar, more crowded than I've ever seen it before. Not to beat around the bush, it ended as most of my nights there do: chatting drunkenly to Mike after several successful rounds of beer pong. I told him I would miss him, and I will. I also reserved his couch for next St. Patrick's Day: Mike is going to be in Dublin. I passed out, certain that things would be wonderful the next day.
Spring burst, exploded throughout the city and covered everything in sunshine. Our field work commenced and we happily took to the rocks, quickly working through and spending half an hour lazing in the sun. So warm! And now? Now I am taking to the warm night once more, to eat, drink and be merry, an early night for me. If I have to leave, I am going out in style.
Monday I went for a long walk in the dark. The tide of winter is pulling away, but the wind was cold. I was cold. I brought my camera, ostensibly to see the cross lit purple, and to capture the city. I wandered past the gym, past the stadium, up to the monument at the base of the mountain. Floodlights set my shadow dancing behind me. I was feeling melancholy. My first glimpse of the purple lights brought tears to my eyes. Not for death, but for change. I sat on the stones and watched a solitary figure wander through the lions, in and out of light. He looked familiar, a ghost of the past brought to life before my eyes, and I stood to follow him. Pulled through the city, I wandered the park for an hour until my hands grew too cold to grip my camera. I retreated. Winter's grip still held fast to the night.
It brought so many thoughts to mind, and here I am helpless to rekindle any of them. Thoughts of my impending departure, thoughts of life, of change. This time it is real, and I cannot ignore the facts laid out before me. Life is change. My memory walks with me here, whenever I take to the streets. Familiar faces and locations, twisted by images in my mind.
Yesterday swelled with spring, rivers of mud caked on the streets. I had slept fitfully, stumbled home to find my path had become clear. I mailed my acceptance, I mailed my life. I am going, officially now there is no turning back, my name on that piece of paper. I visited my lover, and through the hours we spent I knew it was fleeting. I smiled, because it comes so easily when there is no pressure, no concern that one might fall. I smiled because he is lovely, and kind, and makes me happy, and that perhaps if there had been time it would have worked out. If I could only distill this effortless affair and sprinkle it liberally on my future life.
The evening fell away as I arrived to a crowded bar, more crowded than I've ever seen it before. Not to beat around the bush, it ended as most of my nights there do: chatting drunkenly to Mike after several successful rounds of beer pong. I told him I would miss him, and I will. I also reserved his couch for next St. Patrick's Day: Mike is going to be in Dublin. I passed out, certain that things would be wonderful the next day.
Spring burst, exploded throughout the city and covered everything in sunshine. Our field work commenced and we happily took to the rocks, quickly working through and spending half an hour lazing in the sun. So warm! And now? Now I am taking to the warm night once more, to eat, drink and be merry, an early night for me. If I have to leave, I am going out in style.
posted by Care @ 12:42 a.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home