I am still here. I am alive. I am soaking up the last of the sumer and wringing memories out slowly, writing stories on sidewalks with water. I am freckled and burnt and have folks songs running through my head like anthems, and I am still. There is a decided change in the air that I can feel, and the last few weeks have hung at the end of summer and refused to drop, until, with a sudden whoosh, fall is just around the corner.
Last week, Chloe and I went to Bemidji for three days with some of our closest friends. We swam, tubed, waterskiied (a feat that lasted all of eight seconds), ate, drew, watched movies, played games (baloney, bananagrams, golf, cheat on your neighbor, war, artichoke), and got sunburnt and freckled and generally just laughed a lot and had a good time. I brought my camera but only picked it up a few times. I wanted to be there, really there, not watching events unfold through my lens.
I don't have photos from when we jumped off a bridge, inching out on the slippery wooden poles and bracing ourselves for the fall. The moment when we jumped, shivery in our throat and let out with a yell, until we hit the surface of the water with a glorious splash and sunk under. I don't have photos from night swimming, when we pulled on damp swimsuits and thin sweaters and boated out to the middle of the lake with only the light on the boat and the stars faint through the clouds to keep us company. How the water seemed to echo as we splashed into the murky darkness and the thrill of it all kept me exclaiming over and over.
There are no photos chronicling our many many card games, and scattered tiles of bananagrams, and the laughter on all of our hearts as we goofed off and made fun of each other and generally just had a good time. I don't have photos from when we huddled in sweatshirts and sweaters, hair damp and dripping, cups of cinnamon cocoa in our hands, watching a movie late at night. I don't have photos from sitting at the piano, playing music and listening to it ring, singing songs and letting the noise reverberate. I don't have photos from pulling out cream sodas in glass bottles and jumping in the water and exclaiming at the cold and rafting out to the middle of the lake like the goofs we are and all the laughter and stories and simple, ordinary, good things like that.
But the few photos I do have, I treasure.
Enjoy.
Last week, Chloe and I went to Bemidji for three days with some of our closest friends. We swam, tubed, waterskiied (a feat that lasted all of eight seconds), ate, drew, watched movies, played games (baloney, bananagrams, golf, cheat on your neighbor, war, artichoke), and got sunburnt and freckled and generally just laughed a lot and had a good time. I brought my camera but only picked it up a few times. I wanted to be there, really there, not watching events unfold through my lens.
I don't have photos from when we jumped off a bridge, inching out on the slippery wooden poles and bracing ourselves for the fall. The moment when we jumped, shivery in our throat and let out with a yell, until we hit the surface of the water with a glorious splash and sunk under. I don't have photos from night swimming, when we pulled on damp swimsuits and thin sweaters and boated out to the middle of the lake with only the light on the boat and the stars faint through the clouds to keep us company. How the water seemed to echo as we splashed into the murky darkness and the thrill of it all kept me exclaiming over and over.
There are no photos chronicling our many many card games, and scattered tiles of bananagrams, and the laughter on all of our hearts as we goofed off and made fun of each other and generally just had a good time. I don't have photos from when we huddled in sweatshirts and sweaters, hair damp and dripping, cups of cinnamon cocoa in our hands, watching a movie late at night. I don't have photos from sitting at the piano, playing music and listening to it ring, singing songs and letting the noise reverberate. I don't have photos from pulling out cream sodas in glass bottles and jumping in the water and exclaiming at the cold and rafting out to the middle of the lake like the goofs we are and all the laughter and stories and simple, ordinary, good things like that.
But the few photos I do have, I treasure.
Enjoy.
No comments :
Post a Comment