morningbridge.

8 December 2011 § Leave a comment

Tomorrow I’m going to climb the highest mountain in Costa Rica. It’s over 10,000 ft. I’m stoked. I haven’t climbed anything lately but out of psychological holes where only green and purple monsters touch fire with their fingertips over banana-chocolate milkshakes and stalemate games of chess. The staircases are slippery and immense. But I don’t often fall.

We sat in the dining room reading tracts of private literature meant only for the fire and our own self-preservation. The old lady, who asserted that no one in the house knows how to use the microwave but her, walked back and forth between the kitchen and her computer, looked at us speaking a foreign language, making things sounds pretty and formal – and nervous, we shook like earthquakes while the lace tablecloth sat still in the subtle breeze of short breaths and bursts of smiles and laughter, because who remembers what they wrote back then, two minutes or two years ago, when things were simple and silent, not expecting to come full circle back to this? It’s all growth from this point, and we do not return to those places without at least an idea of where we’ve been since.

There are subjects we haven’t covered, like fire and people’s opinions of color, but I know the deep aquaturquoise she loves because the house on the corner, next to the three-dimensional toothbrush mural, is one shade off and therefore quite ugly, but the strip of kite tied up in the tree on top of the landfill park was the perfect shade. Rare and perfect, like it should be. Wizards and handcuffs, for example.

I’m being vague. Forgive me. I need time to process this.

por otro lado, no me importa lo que usted está leyendo.

entonces.

Tonight, the ballet, and tomorrow, a mountain. Next week, surfing and goodbye(s). Next beginning. They’re becoming quite like bullet points by now, but I think this one is going to take more of a toll on me than others. And the funny thing – I’m in the middle. There is no beginning here. I’m not going home, nor am I departing from one. I am the one being left, for a change. Time to see how it feels.

But if I’m traveling, can I be left?

Of course. When I’m traveling, anything is possible.

Even time travel. All it takes is the right song.

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