leaving

The little brother is gone back to Indiana. Another friend has gone back to Berkeley, and another back to Utah, and another soon will fly back to New York, and things look emptier and quieter every day. Of course, Dawn is now home, which makes things more bearable. And I only have two more days at work, before I take time off to go shopping and to the river and to wash and pack everything for another year away from home.

Things are unravelling and wrapping up all at once, and the threads are tangling, pulling and knotting. Great, fun times have appeared, been thoroughly enjoyed, then have faded into yesterday or last week. Everything falls backwards eventually. My memory does not last. There's a certain intensity, a reality, that is felt every time something happens, but I forget it. I cannot call it back, so it feels like every day that I gain something, I lose something, too. And loss feeds regret.

Only one more week, and I, too, will have flown away, joining my friends in their academic exodus. And what next, I do not know. Uncertainty... I must learn to take it graciously, to be a grass rather than an oak tree. Squill.

it's a song. written Thursday. yes, it has a tune. ask me to sing it if you want to hear...

just a glimpse is enough
just a word will fulfill
just a touch will heal my wounds and make me whole

all i need to see
is the glory of your presence
and all i need to hear
is the song of your love
and all i need to feel
is the warmth of your mercy
just a glimpse, just a word, just a touch
will make me whole

newsishy stuff

The not-so-little one just returned this evening from a two-week trip to Costa Rica. The big sis has arrived in France from Croatia. I am back to mostly normal health, which means working again. Things are normal-ish, I suppose. Not ready yet for the summer to wind down. Mostly I'm not ready for people to start leaving. There are conversations I still wish to have, sunsets still to be watched, fun still to be had. Working full-time leaves not enough space or energy for random adventures. This makes me sad.

I found Plutarch's Lives in the bookcase, and have started reading it. Am also reading Children of Dune and The Question of God and Death in the City. I like variety. Mum bought me a Latin and English Dictionary. It will be useful, I can tell already.

Courage, faceless one. I need courage. I need the guts to just CALL people, by golly, and get it over with. They won't bite; they won't complain. And I'm always just fine once the phone call starts. It's just so doggone difficult to work up the courage and work down the nerves to actually dial the stupid phone. Blechh.