the same stars

i had forgotten what a twisting heart feels like. i had forgotten how it felt to sit in my room, listening to too much carole king, missing someone with a dull ache in my chest. i don't cry too much. when i used to cry, it was out of heartbreak, fear, rejection. my tears these days are often a combination of frustration, happiness, and longing. it's still easy to smile. i don't spend my days hoping my parents won't notice swollen eyes and a heavy heart. i feel lighter, these days. i guess the difference between now and then is the certainty of the future, the steadiness of love, the hope and joy and wonder of every passing day. i open my eyes a little wider now, and even though i wish the days would go by faster, i try to stop and savor what i can because soon i'll never have this time again. i can step outside and look at the beautiful sky and love this place for what it is, and what it means to me. i'm growing up, and it's a little scary, but it feels good to be able to grasp onto my past for a bit longer before letting it go. and besides, it'll always be back here, waiting for me.

we are miles apart right now but this is a tether than no distance can sever. and i wonder where you are, are we looking at the same stars again? it comforts me to know that we are still sleeping under the same sky, and that the winds rolling down the coast mean that we have the same air in our lungs. i take a deep breath and it calms me. patience.  one day at a time, one slow crawl of the sun through the sky. i can do this. i can do this. i can do this.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will be be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
-- Walt Whitman

had a feeling i could be someone, could be someone

life is climbing to the pitch-perfect peak of a symphony, and i'm sitting here waiting for it to crash down into a crescendo. beautiful happy things have been swirling around me for the past few weeks in a blur of family (old and new), friends, love, laughter. but in my heart i can feel things slowly dying down. jeff is gone in connecticut, last bleary spoken words at 6:30am on thursday; my family is leaving for home one by one. soon enough it'll be the four of us here in my house, just like i'm in high school again, and the wait begins. i feel like i've been in a state of transition ever since i graduated college (because let's face it: college was a state of transition in itself but it always felt like home). but i keep on keeping on. life goes by quickly but there's still so much that lies ahead. counting down the days but never wanting any to pass me by. i want adventure in the great wide somewhere, i want it more than i can tell. but it's all a great adventure, isn't it? not just the stars and the moon, but also the earth and the wind and the sand and the sea? like diving off a cliff and never looking back --

-- here goes nothing, she says. here goes nothing.