four days in one

 in the absolute knick of time, we made it onto the ferry to that island [where we feel heartbeats down streets and see love upon leaves falling from their trees]. i stood, a little sunburnt, in the unforgiving wind who made goosebumps on my skin, and walked around the deck, watching as the 9pm sun turned the sky lilac orange and cream, as far as i could see all the way to shadowing mountain peaks.

this weekend made me miss home, but feel home, and realise just how much everything in me is taking me by surprise lately. i never knew i could feel so much in a single minute. 

we were well and truly into fresh and clean air. i looked up. the night sky took my breath away and feebleness took over my sense of being alive and here and able and me. i’d forgotten how beautiful she was with no city lights to blind her.

the milky way lit our way as we walked to the beach and onto silky sands. we laid, side-by-side, wrapped in a blanket, and stared out across the eerily illuminated water. a green blinking light and a hub of orange so so far from us the only lights other than satellites and starlight. we watched them move or blink.

this night, i saw the most shooting stars i’ve ever seen, and one especially long and bright and deeply carved into the sky, one that put tears in my eyes and made me see how right this all, everything, is.

this night was all a part of the whole of it. this weekend was cramps in my stomach from laughing so hard. it was showering under a hose and his smile and playing like kids shooting hoops and getting dusty. it was dancing on the grass to no music at all and jumping into his arms in pure all-consuming bliss.

this was about me falling deeper in love. in a way i never saw coming like it did and it does, on wonderful days and ordinary days and days i don’t expect, as i spend time watching and observing and noticing every small and important detail of the way he moves and looks and is. and i’m building ladders and bridges and mountains of love to him for him because of him. and i’m learning everyday.

last night, dreamlike 

  
we ate sushi by the lake wrapped in a blanket watching dusk do crazy beautiful things to the buildings of this urban seattle skyline. 

because it tells me so

this world gives me options. and i choose, path by path by path, to walk slow, run fast. find nothing. find everything. find time moving in a straight line as days slip by weeks slip by months, and so here i am. but, i know it curves, i know there are answers in the breeze that passes by me as i sit on a stool at a bench in the windowsill of this cafe by the water’s edge and write and think and breathe unsteadily. i’ve lost touch and i’m sleeping through my life with tired eyes and a weary mind.

i think i think too much.

the sun is setting. it’s the hottest part of the day so far. and the water ebbs and flows in front of my eyes as birds glide and people in cars pass by as mountains sit in silhouette on the horizon in the very distance, looking very much like a painting. and but for how it looks, i take nothing from it.

there’s jazz on the radio. i tap my toes. i drink green tea. this bench is too high and i scratch my wrists gently on the edge of my computer as i type. i would say it feels kinda nice [because that sounds kinda right] but it doesn’t. it’s uncomfortable, but i don’t move an inch.

i sit and sense the heat of this sunset on my arm and my face and the scratching of my wrists from all this nonsense writing and the beating of my heart and emptiness of my tummy.

and i try to feel.

until i burst

i’ve started carving indents in a life of longing and searching. i’ve started finding myself filling in and travelling through a channel, in a place to drown and love. to find in the darkness. to know in the daytime as the sun shines and i discover more about myself in the quiet and unknowing. in the moments of confusion and fear. in the tremors of the earth as i press my ear against the dirt. i hear my pulse throb.

i stand and watch the walls of the gorge rise and fall in breaths of living and belonging. and for the first time in the longest time my heart cries as i smile a gentle smile and remember why i’m here.

this. this is all and everything it’s about. in streams of light on emerald leaves glowing gold. in the smell of pine and the stickiness of sap on my fingers that sticks as i grab hold of a big, barky tree and haul myself up a rock and dry-leaf covered ravine.

i am so small standing by waterfalls so big.

and suddenly i realise. we are and have always been all the atoms of ourselves. we are ecstatic pieces of memories and stories and definitiveness. we are everything we’ll never know and everything we always wanted to be. we are, i am. this is all there is and all we need.

new friends old place new place old friends

here i am,
wednesday,
drinking tea in starbucks, it tastes like spearmint [though he told me that it wouldn’t, but i don’t want to complain. i swear i’ll never learn].

travelling, writing, adventuring, living, making a life with a man i love with all my heart. strolling together, hand in hand, along the streaming days that pass us by. and there goes a week.
i’m living. i’m living and finding my feet in this fairytale’s summertime heat.

last night i sat on the roof of a building in pioneer square watching the sun as it set behind a veil of sheeting clouds and silhouette mountains on the puget sound.
the wind blew goosebumps onto my bare skin and set a tall, billowing flag floating strong and proud into nowhere, reminding me of the place i’m in.

i drank red wine over dinner with a girl i feel i’ve known a while longer than i have. we spoke about life and love and adventures and connection. flames of the fire pit blew towards us as the warmth of our conversation grew and expanded to life’s biggest priorities, our feminine independence and the beauty of loving ourselves.

two then became three as we devoured dessert in the dulling light and laughed about the silliest things. two girls and a guy, a rooftop and the naked navy sky with no moon to light it. we settled into knowing each other and melted into the gas and heat of the fire burning at our feet.

15 june 

 

sunset last night turned from this to fluorescent pink before night’s first stars appeared. i wished on them as i sat and soaked it all in washing it all down with the bloodiest bloody mary and the best kind of company, him.

georgia

i left in a daze, tired and unphased about the lack of sleep i’d just had, whether i packed enough, whether i packed too much. i found myself on a plane, delayed by a busy tarmac at eight in the morning, how does that happen so early?

we landed and i disembarked and ran to my gate for my plane to the states, through customs and immigration and border control. i was flustered and red, i broke into a sweat, arriving at a gate that wasn’t even ready yet. [i thought i’d be so late they’d be calling my name.] so i sat and i killed time for ten minutes or so, and when called, walked down the escalators with the other keen passengers to waiting air hosts below. i sat next to georgia, a twenty-one year old from melbourne travelling to jamaica to watch the cricket and meet other cricket fans before jetting back to the usa to explore for two months more, alone and excited and anxious for what lay ahead.

she asked me questions, over the spare seat between us, while sitting against the window in striped socks and vans, cropped yoga pants and a leopard print sweater, hair tied with a scrunchie in a lopsided bun, “i hate flying” she said “it takes so long, it’s boring and painful. and i still have so many hours left!” we laughed it off, it wouldn’t be as bad as it seemed i promised.

we spoke in the darkness over the hum of the plane about adventures and my favourite spots in the usa, where she just has to visit and what she just can’t miss, while others slept or buried their attention in the tiny screen on the seat in front. we giggled quietly at people speaking too loudly with their headphones on and the kids throwing tantrums two rows away.

for fourteen hours we sat nearly side-by-side until we arrived to clear immigration and went our separate ways – caught in the chaos, forgetting to say goodbye. a fleeting meeting filled with curiosity and hope for good, wholesome adventures. so maybe i’ll never see her again. but maybe i will, this world is so small and things come back around in ways we never expect.