And then, as if it weren’t enough, a rainbow, bridging light and dark, reaches across the horizon from one side to the other. Surely the rest of the world must be in night, as we have all the power of the heavens on us in this moment. I yearn for my camera, to capture, to steal the world assembled before me. Yet I know the record would do the event no justice at all. So I sit. I leave my eyes open, to absorb the piercing rays, watching houses and hills and trees and mountains flash by outside the windows of the train. And then it’s over. Back behind the clouds, to guide us into the night. I know it will return again.

****

thank you for the time we shared.

when it was just you and me, alone.

your hand in mine, my head on your shoulder.
p.s. those days are gone.

when did you ever miss me?

how could you forget to want me?

when were you going to tell me
i meant more to you?

i thought you were mine.
and i was there when you needed me
but you never did.

you left me on my own.

p.s. i love you

did you forget what it meant?
because i still remembered,

but i had no reason to say it again.

i told myself it wouldn’t happen any more
then you’d reply and i’d find you,

i’d see your eyes and find hope again
just to be left in the background. again.

our love algebra; arrested development
.
you wouldn’t give me what i longed for.

you couldn’t even recognize it.

you won’t remember me when it’s over

and i’ll try not to remember you,

but that’s not so easy for some of us,

when love went unconsidered.

****

“…there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst… And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my life…” (american beauty)

****

the setting sun, on the 135 down the hill.

a murder of a thousand crows.

a healthy dose of live jazz and delicious eats.
friend, photoshoot, blue sky, clear water.

* * * *

Digging into the gas pedal after red turns to green before a long stretch of open road.

Climbing into bed and turning off the lamp each night.

Reading chapter after chapter of textbook after textbook, and enjoying it.


* * * *

The field study director needed our returning dates today before sending the info off to the school travel company. They’ll be booking our flights to Italia next week, for the field school this summer. I’ve planned to spend an extra 2 weeks after we finish up in Milano, likely to be spent making my way across the Riviera, down to Barcelona, then up to Paris where I’ll fly back home. Nearly 2 months in Europe. It’s going to cost far more than I have, and it will often be 12 hour days of interviews, research, and presentations, but it will be worth far more than I’ll ever admit. In the meantime, I need to concentrate on finishing projects and research presentations efficiently enough to find time to sleep, and maybe even hit the gym. When in Rome, … look as the Romans did? That’s the goal. Besides, no one wants to see a walking hanger.

I stood outside the door, the heat quickly escaping me. Surrounded by shadow from a pale blue light, the moisture of my breath turned to steaming clouds as I enjoyed the stillness of the night.

Fields flew past, riddled with patches of dead grasses, painted with a thin layer of frost. Silhouettes of hibernating trees danced among the frozen air, suspended above the ground as if to erase the minor imperfections from its surface.

The bleak midwinter echoes in my ear, trailed by a choir of children’s voices.

I’m inaccessible without you here,

A hot shower makes me thankful.

it covers me. and covers me.

amazing love.

****

Dan, thank you for introducing me to the world.

Shore, thank you for letting me in. And for sharing.

RP, thank you for not giving up.

Bitt, thank you for being available, and thank you for reading.

Crick, thank you for listening, and caring.

DHon, thank you for not acting any different.

Qmom, thank you for so many kind words.

Warner, thank you for reminding me.

Marks, thank you for the emails, and the hours, and the pieces of you.

brock, thank you for hope.

<<<<

I don’t know. It’s likely a result of a drained brain from school stresses, but I feel like all my emotions are trapped inside of me. I see so many beautiful things, and enjoy the occasional evening of content, yet I don’t have words to describe them. I like describing my life. It helps me remember. Without words, memories fade.

Help me remember this?


~~~~

.

I will spend hours a week cloudwatching. Every time I enter a room, no matter where I am, if I’ve been there before, or if it’s the first time, I head to the nearest window to catch the sky. Think about it. Who would ever have thought tiny bits of water vapour make for such an amazing sight? Especially in the autumn, when the chilling winds carry these forms from one end of the sky to the other, like it’s some sort of atmospheric freeway. Sometimes they can be so high and such a bleached white you’d think God himself could be found riding atop, where other times they can be low and so dark it’s as if the sky had caved in.

Then there’s the rain. If you’ve spent any time in Vancouver, or Seattle for that matter, you know the rain of which I speak. For some, it takes a while to get used to it, while others never quite manage. Me? I love it. We had rain every day for the month of January last year, and into February. Most of the autumn and winter season is made up of long periods of rain, but that one was extra fun.

As I boy my mom would reprimand me for not using my umbrella when I walked home from school. I would carry it by the string, gently swinging back and forth, so I could enjoy the cool wetness in my hair. You knew it was a good rain when you got into the house and your hair had become so saturated and full of minerals that it dried exactly as it looked when it was wet. And when your sweater had grown a size too big, and your jeans had wicked up so much water from the ground that the dry line was just below your knees. What really made it great was knowing that after I got home, wet and moist, I could hop into the bath and mix it all together; hot and cold, stored and fresh; change into a clean pair of jogging pants and a good tshirt, and I was set for the rest of the day.

Did I mention the scarves? If there’s no other reason to love autumn, at least love it for the chance to start wearing scarves again. Well not just scarves, but sweaters too, and button-up coats. And mittens. The small knit ones that develop holes in the fingertips, that are soon stretched to make for full-blown finger holes.

The foggy windows in the busses and trains, making it a game to know where you are based on the stops and turns the ride follows.

The early sunsets, leaving more time to grab a hot apple cider and return to a good book on the sofa.

The relieved faces of fellow element-goers as they come indoors.

I heart autumn.