39 Days ...

... thinking about Yesterday ...

John, Jen and I took Harry Potter books down to Lake Sag. Cold water on the rocky shore. Ants crawling into our glasses of pink lemonade. Robert was there too, pilfering through his French flashcards, muttering in German. Funny to think, the next time I'll see him, we'll both be bundled up in the Paris train station ... glowering from a medditerarian semester.

At one point, there was a rush of wind that wrestled the leaves of an old, black walnut tree above our heads. Simultaneously, we laid our books down and looked up. Can you see it? The relfection of the sun caught in the leaves, tapping the sky, lulling us from our sleep? I didn't tell them then, but I was saving that memory for when I get older. When I start to forget what its like to be twenty, I want to remember walnut tree moving again the sky. How could I be homesick if I can carry that memory with me? John to my left, blue eyes teasing me, Jen to my right, laughing to herself and grinning, and Robert cross-legged behind us, always impressing me with his good nature, his kindness.

I will never forget the French word for leg (jamb) or the feeling of sidewalk scraping my feet, as I walked next to Jen shouting "Je suis un femme" or the conversation we had together earlier that morning, bent over syrupy pancakes and orange juice, while she doodled on the placemat at K's Kitchen. We are so similiar that I think sometimes we overshoot each other in the rush to understand everybody else, ricocheting off strangers and old friends before returning to intiment conversations, so honest, it warms ...

K.P and Theo drew a picture of me on the sidewalk outside the Box with colored chalk. I'm sitting by the lake reading a book, wearing a red shirt. Because you always wear red, she explained as I stood in the kitchen wearing a red tank-top.

This after we snuck into three movies, ate too much popcorn and laughed because its summer and we can waste time. Afterwards, John and I went grocery shopping and discussed the performance of Cabaret we saw on Saturday with Robert. Standing next to the strawberries, we wondered how the content contrasted with the intent. Was there a complete conclusion? And I was grateful again for our relationship. Let the rest take care of itself ... driving home we took a wrong road and my gas tank was empty, but what about that long road ahead of us made me so excited?

We turned around and found the highway again, but we could have kept going like we always do, and there would have been something at the crossroads ... probably a lemur or an old Greek god, lounging with her thumb out wondering which way to Paris?

Just plow forward. We're bound to turn up somewhere.

So I leave soon? Everyone leaves soon? Most people will come home, maybe some will stay. Ah, But I've had my afternoons and coffeespoons, what more could I ask for friends? What more could I need?