This morning I woke up to a crisp bright blue sky and a relatively cool temperature, lifted by the breeze. On the way to church driving down the highway past all the enormous pine trees I really starting missing things, past days that I woke up to look out of my window and see the same bright sky. I’m not sure even if “miss” is the right word to use, because I don’t think I would really rewind time if I could, but I started to deeply feel certain moments of the past and I am so glad for their place in my memory.
I thought of lazy days roaming the streets in Nyack, choosing which of the thrift stores and books shops the venture into after our lunch on the river. The air clear and fresh in our lungs, we trudged up the hills to finally arrive at the coffee shop or ice cream place at the conclusion of the afternoon.
Other things that crossed my mind were times when I was at the top of a mountain, or canoeing through a lake, or sitting in someone’s backyard in a circle around a fire, the skin on our cheeks and noses burning as we tried to stay awake.
And through all the scattered moments, most of all I was remembering my summers at camp in upstate New York and I remembered the beautiful trees everywhere and the way their pine needles and sap seemed to get in every piece of clothing that you owned.
The mornings we woke up and ran quick to get dressed and gather at the lake with everyone before breakfast. The dining hall was always my favorite part of the morning - the great cedar tables, sugary syrup on our rubber pancakes, cold milk and watery orange juice, and occasionally, if the weather admitted frigid enough, our stiff fingers were warmed at the enormous stone fireplace.
Girls clad in bright colored bandanas and heavy hiking boots swarmed the camp, rushing from the canoes to the campouts, and everyone knew each other, each person happy to be in this little pocket of nature, the corner of heaven that was set aside just for our enjoyment each summer.
These summers were such important parts of my life and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. These trees and skies and the water in the rivers and lakes are all reasons why I can be happy and sad and angry and joyful and these are all the reasons I am in love with this life.
The first ever memory I have of Joe is back in third grade when girls and boys wouldn’t stand on the same side of the room and it wasn’t okay to talk to anyone else besides your two “best friends.”
I remember when I was in my doodling phase and I would fill every surface I could get my hands on with little creatures and characters going on picnics and enjoying the weather outside. I’d like to say it was my creative nature at an early age, but I think a lot of it was just carelessness. On this particular day we had just taken a test and we were about to grade our own tests except the boy sitting next to me had to go to the bathroom and so my teacher, Mrs Shapiro, asked me to grade his as well.
Of course I was in the middle of filling my test pages with drawings in big orange highlighter and so as soon as I had a new packet of papers to get my hands on I jumped in and started turning his pages orange as well. The packet was probably a six pounds heavier by the time he got back from the bathroom, the heavy ink weighing down the feathery leafs in new and offensive colours.
I don’t remember seeing him when he got back from his errand but I do remember looking down at my orange hands with disappointment in myself and I learned about the way actions effect the people around us and I learned that no of course it is not okay to colour all over your friend’s test as well as your own.
These lessons are hard learned at the time but worth a priceless value later in life when we look back and discover that each moment is significant.
It was the day after my friend’s friend’s mother died when I started thinking about the delicacy of humans.
We build things out stone, massive structures that show our invincibility, but it is all a lie. It is a face that is covering up our innocence. vulnerability. These walls block u out from each other, and turn us into stone, unable to feel anything.
It was the day after my friend’s friend’s mother died that I talked to some people and they were mad at the world and said they didn’t care anymore because it happens anyway and talking about it won’t change anything. There’s nothing to say. They had become stone walls, manmade structures that were hardened to our emotions, avoiding the ability to feel.
Today is the day after my friend’s friend’s mother died and I went into the auditorium and lay on the cold hard floor. I looked down the aisles into the forest of metal trees that reached up and turned into hundreds of chairs. I lay there on the floor and I felt the world on my chest and the cold linoleum on my back. Tears fell down my face and my fists are clenched and I think of our delicacy and I sit on the floor next to these manmade chairs and the manmade ceiling and the stage and I realize that we have a choice to make.
This is a choice between feeling our own reality and building structures to block it out. My decision might be the most painful decision but I want to feel the world and I will not fight the ability to feel. There are ways to avoid it and methods of numbness but there is a large difference between feeling and numbness and I know that this is the way I am connected. I am alive because of what is happening around me and I choose to feel it.
I laid here on the floor and stared up at the ceiling and mourned the life of my friend’s friend’s mother that died the day before today and I mourned for the people who lost that part of themselves along with her, but mostly I mourned for the people who are making the choice to build walls of stone and to not feel anything at all.
tonight was a night. tonight is a night. one that I want to remember because it is just the summary of so many things and the connection of so many souls. I am connected with so many souls. I sat and was in love with my best friend Joe and completely infatuated by all of his accomplishments while I listened to the awards ceremony. I stole Dominique away from her awkward moments with her ex’s parents. I laughed with BK about him stealing my shoes every day will I ever learn? I finally met Amelia’s mom and I told Alyssa that she is beautiful because I have never met anyone like her. She wore jeans and a sweater tonight because her entire body is covered in hives and I just love every inch of her. I am sitting in the middle of my floor on top of piles of clothes that I should have packed by now and I can’t organize my thoughts into sentences. My perfectionism kills me at moments like this but I guess sometime’s it’s just better to let it all go all flow down. It is falling from my head to my fingers to the floor streaming waiting washing I don’t want to forget any of this all the people I love and want to hold on to they are falling away with my tears falling into the floor streaming washing and I don’t feel ready to leave it. my brain is hugging you and my body is crying for you a piece of me will die because it will always be here and I cannot take it with me. Prom is in a week and then my party and then graduation and then I will begin my fifteen hour drive down to Georgia. I am leaving the people I love to make new memories new friends and move on from who I am right now.
I remember the first time I met Pete.
The moment I heard his voice I knew something was wrong - first I thought he had a mental impediment and then I thought he was on drugs, and then I just didn’t know what to think. He looked fine and was relating well with the people we were talking to but I couldn’t figure out what I was missing.
Alex told me he was in a car accident or something, so that helped me a little bit but I still just felt really guilty for being so out of my comfort zone around him.
Since then I’ve seen him a few times and said hi, nothing too extensive, until last Sunday. He came in to get coffee when I was working and asked how I was, he was tired because he had just moved back to North Jersey from living in upstate NY. He mentioned that he had moved back because his band was getting back together (a band that Alex had recommended to me a while back). He mentioned that they would be playing lots of shows coming up this summer and I said I would definitely come check them out, but thinking in the back of my mind that I will be long gone by then, moved down to Georgia. He got his coffee and we said goodbye and he left.
A few minutes later he came back in and said he forgot that he needed to get a cup of tea for someone, so I made his tea and we joked that I didn’t expect to see him again so soon. Just as he was about to leave, he slid a square piece of cardboard across the counter. It was a cd case. He said oh, and I brought this in for you, I sing and play keys for the band.
I thought it was nice, but didn’t really think much else. I figured it would be just another collection of music to add to the rest, another cd jammed in the console of my car.
On the way home from work I popped the cd in thinking I might as well listen to a few songs before forgetting completely. I turned on the player and soft piano notes immediately surrounded me, going through my ears and covering me in peace. I turned it up and opened the windows as a low, lethargic voice poured out from the speakers.
I heard Pete’s voice for the first time. I had hear him speak before, the shaky words of someone who had been through too much. But this time I heard the voice of his heart. I looked at the lyrics and saw into his soul in I way that I wish was possible for more people. After hearing his music and reading his words, I knew him.
I am sitting here and remembering every encounter that I’ve had with this man. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. And even if I do, I’m not sure that I will be able to convey the way I will with the right words. He taught me something big that day.
He taught me that we are all human. That we are here, and we are damaged, and that we are beautiful.
