tears of dew

in may, i found a pot of the cutest flowers i've ever seen at a local greenhouse while my mom and i shopped for the garden. i begged her to buy them for me, and after she consented, i took them home with a grin i haven't seen since i was a six year old with a new puppy.

i took my flowers to college for the summer with me. they were my pride and joy. they sat outside my door, happily greeting each of our visitors with their brightly colored petals and bouncy stems

there were a few times when i would leave for random periods of time. halfway through the week, i would remember about my little flowers outside in the hundred degree heat without water. when i'd come home, the first thing i'd do is rush out and water my little flowers... sometimes they would be drooping over the side of the pot, slowly looking at me as i apologized again and again as i poured drink on their parched soil. 

before i slept, i wished that they knew the tears of dew caressing their lithe figures in the morning were representative of my real tears, my sorrow for forgetting them

many times as i was locking up the house right before i went to bed, i would peek out the front door to look at my little darlings, knowing that in a few hours, they would feel the sun warm their leaves as it rose and then for the rest of the morning, leaving them in a comfortable shade for the rest of the afternoon. 

i loved these flowers. they were the only things that needed me. every time i failed as their caregiver, i knew they would forgive me, the only things i knew to love me unconditionally, and would slowly grow back to their full strength, bright and cheerful as ever.

this week i tended them quite meticulously, happy to be home for so long. i put new dirt in their flowerpot, and checked to make sure they had enough moisture every day. 

today i came home, looking for the customary green, happy greeting that usually smiled at me near my ankles... and noticed something was wrong

the tall stalk of the purple snapdragon that once brightly waved at me as he towered above his zinnia friends was broken in half, his upper body lying at the feet of his green comrades

his best friend, the dancer, a tall pink petunia plant that smiled at me every day and held through my ill care the most faithfully, the one that had grown a good eight inches high and bobbed hello at me when a breeze blew, the one that loved me the most, lay there at my feet, her back snapped in half, and her head shriveling up as the wind whispered past us

the rest of my planter was uprooted 

all of my little family slowly dying in their beds as i stood there.

i dropped to my knees 

and held their broken halves in my hands for a few silent minutes.

someone killed the only things that loved me

tears of dew will grace more places than their empty pot tomorrow morning

nirvana

Sparkling water drifts lazily around the bend

as tree branches dip their limbs into the current, letting it flow between 

the weathered cracks of bark and leaves.

In the distance, one can hear loud giggling as tubes come around the corner.

the laughter turns to squeals of elation

as the girls, carefully balanced on their rubber floats, plunge into 

the icy white of the rapids.

the girls' screams of delight end as they unclench their fists 

and finish their ride,

clambering onto the nearby shore

dripping excitement 

and liquid sunshine

back into the fountain of youth.

Summertime is the Groveland rapids.

The guitar's fervent refrain wafts through the entranced crowd,

the tune tickling each ear as it weaves in and out of the throng.

young couples smile 

and softly sing sweet lyrics to one another

as they lie together under the stars 

impervious to society 

on blankets of indifference.

Suddenly, 

flashes of blazing white streak the sky, causing me to sit up, agape.

i listen for the storm's trademark voice--

the thunder--

but acoustic strings are the only soundtrack i hear.

i slowly lie back down as I realize

i'm witnessing a show of 

empyrean harmony: 

mother nature's beauty,

God's talents given to men of music

and friends that make your heart sing.

Summertime is concerts, love, and summer storms.

A few days later, two girls walk up a grassy knoll 

and through some buildings

to a tall edifice overlooking the valley.

They climb to the top as the sun gets lower, 

the secret rooftop serenade beginning as they arrive. 

They sit in contented silence 

watching

as the sun dips to kiss the summit good night.

The girls talk about life, love, 

and friendship,

their conversation deepening with the dusk

and ending as the first star begins to twinkle.

They descend from their celestial hiding spot

and walk home for the night,

slowly letting the memories soak in.

Summertime is friendship. 

summertime is life the way it is supposed to be lived

summertime is happiness

summertime is nirvana

we heart australia

so marisa, mike, and i have all been having the time of our life lately. here are some random videos of us getting more familiar with australia. i think marisa and i may have an unhealthy interest in this country... 

that's it. i'm moving to australia.

ps... dan and simo... wish you were here!!!! :(

Emotions

Generally speaking, I would not categorize myself as an emotional person. Logic or spontaneity controls my life, but lately I have been trying to be more in touch with that "feelings" side of me. These are some of the emotions I have noticed myself experiencing in the past few days:

surprise: five minutes ago when i looked down at the tickling sensation on my leg and saw a moderately large black spider slowly creeping across my thigh 

despair: when i forgot my friend's bridal shower. she came all the way from Harvard and i couldn't even make it across the island

satisfaction: realizing i don't like to capitalize a lot of things in informal writing.    ...and then realizing I don't have to. 

confusion: stumbling across more wedding pictures of girls younger than me that are married. if i'm not old enough to get married... how the heck are they old enough?! 

amusement: seeing that I wrote that my life was controlled by logic or spontaneity. i'm a walking contradiction 

joy: driving fast with the windows down in the summertime heat, rockin some beats with my homies

annoyance: things that unnecessarily cramp my style

curiosity: realizing i'm homeless and still jobless in two weeks.

loneliness: my birthday is tomorrow

.....