2007-07-09
dear diary
Dear Diary,
Tonight, I felt good about myself.
I decide to take a walk along the shore. I peeled off my work uniform and changed into a light, summery outfit, feeling so good to let my skin feel the atmosphere. I wore one of my favorite tops, a cozy cotton halter that lets the warm air brush my bare, olive shoulders. I slipped into a pair of old shorts, ones that fit perfectly now, rather than snugly as before- as a result of my eating habits that have lately been compensating for overeating a whole year in college, going of medication that caused me to sustain water weight, and my almost-daily running regimen. My hair, which seems to finally be growing out longer to a lovely length, is braided back with a few strands down. The air is light, warm, and inviting.
I arrived at the beach, collecting cup in hand. I know it sounds dramatically stupid, but my plan was to collect sea shells and small rocks, one for each day of the summer that has passed, and one for each day that remains. 31 would be collected for the former; 56 for the latter. It's more a matter of keeping track of the time than anything else.
I walked along the sand, right at the meeting point where the waves wash up, the water tickling my feet with each step. It was black outside, and most of the sky had managed to evade the bright lights from the amusement park that shine intensely, even at night. Out toward the great abyss, the unending lake, the sky was dark.
I could see Caseopia, and it reminded me off two of my best friends at school, Laura and Christina. These girls are so smart and beautiful, wonderful people. We could huddle together on the grass, look up at stars, whine about boys, and be the bright girls we are. They remind me of everything Carleton represents in my mind- fresh, insightful, and enjoyable people and knowledge. I miss them.
There's another constellation I see up there; I'm pretty sure it's Pegasus, or at least part of it- a quadrilateral. I spot the Big Dipper while I'm taking a swig of my peach ice tea that I brought along with me.
I gaze out to the ocean, and I feel a slight sinking feeling as the thought of Danny washes over me. Despite the lack of romance in our relationship, I love his company and the time we spend together. It's easy, natural, and it makes me feel good. Looking out to the horizon, it's so dark. And something about it makes me feel a little lonely, and I think of him.
All these thoughts are much more beautiful in my mind, before I can reduce them to words. It was profound longing. It was enjoying the surrounding beauty.
My hands skimmed the water as I bent down, seeking my treasures, one for each summer day. I liked doing this in the darkness, because only later would I get to see what I picked out- it was a mystery.
It felt good to lay my hands upon the smooth sand and search for something solid amidst the thousands of tiny grains. I could feel something with my fingers, hold it up to the minimal starlight, and place it in my collecting cup, which clinked with each newly added item.
The earth was quiet, except for the waves consistently kissing the shore. I felt alone, I liked myself, I longed for those I missed. It was a kaleidoscope of feelings, redolent yet pressing. I don't know how to express it.
I've since sorted by collections into a container with two compartments. There are much more stones/sea shells left than there are those that have passed. But all in due time, they will switch from one side to the other. While they shift from side to side, I may end up also changing myself, as a result of all this time alone and all this hard work. I may become stronger, something like that. But this feeling of longing yet serene satisfaction that I can't quite properly articulate, that may never really leave, until one side is empty and the other is full.
leesah-likes at 12:20 a.m.