pick me up and turn me 'round
i have just returned home from california. i'm lying on my bed; my legs are still a pinkish hue, and i'm tired.
i am thinking about last saturday at laguna beach (the sunburn culprit) and climbing rocks at lowtide, barefoot, with marlei. we sat and watched the waves crash and form tiny tide pools, and we decided that the reason we love the ocean so much is because we're not in the middle of it, alone and consumed. we're held fast on a rock.
and strangely enough, i'm reminded of sarah masen's song, longing unknown:
the constant, careful longing
she is holding on to nothing
while trying to believe that there's
a second birth.
longing til you know you're not alone.
longing like your life is not your own.
longing to give everything you hold away.
so. i am lying on my bed, going through two weeks of mail. bills can wait for monday. letter from pregnant best friend, shannon, has been ripped open and digested with hearty laughter.
aunt mary helen sent me a note--as she often does--sealed with a horse sticker. the card itself is a little girl cuddled up to her horse (which looks remarkably like dakota), reading him a story called horse tales. the horse and his girl are comfortably lounging in a meadow, creekside. "i have the darndest time finding cards with horses on 'em," aunt mh always complains. i'll bet she high-fived the store clerk upon finding this gem of a card! the best part is that the horse is very into the story being read. i wonder if dakota would like me to read to him?
i received my first letter from aunt rona since uncle jack died. she still uses the labels: mr. & mrs. j.f. mccarthy, but she has crossed off the "mr. &" in black pen. i can't even fathom what that must feel like. it's too heavy a thought now, so i'm back on the rocks with marlei, contemplating the ocean. "let's stay til the sun sets," she said. and that's what we did.
