Rainwater and Grey

(Story of my young adult life :)

The world and blogoshpere is abuzz today - so much to get swept away in, passionate about – so much to ignite the fires of anxiety and contemplation.

I’ve considered making political opinions part of my blog, and then realized that I don’t care to. Not because I don’t care, but because my blog is a refuge for me – a place where I let a little bit of myself into the world, or write about the little bit of the world that just affected my soul. I want this to be a canvas for belles lettres.


Instead of being riled up about an issue right now, I’d rather just be grateful for things as they were today, for this really beautiful, intricate dam of fall leaves in the gutter, the crystal clear liquid snowmelt and rainwater stocked up behind it, the way the leaves lined the rough old concrete. The water was cold and clean and fresh from the sky, and a little stream flowed through the locked fingers of last summer’s maple canopy, going on to be pooled in the next tier… I touched it with my bare toes, despite briskly frigid air, the rain coming down in wailing rants throughout the grey afternoon.

I can’t part with my Chacos… even though there is snow on the mountains not a mile from my doorstep. It just feels so much more real to have the elements on my skin and to actually get cold. I love it. I appreciated the warmth of the blanket I wrapped up in afterwards, and the hot breath of the space heater to dry my numb toes. The best part of today's walk through the rainwater was talking to Grace through it all, ranting in the impassioned way of twenty-something girls about the latest and greatest in our love affairs and lives.

So I thought about and talked of love today. I love many people. I even love myself. I love my life, I love the people in it.

I then thought about need… the need for attention, acknowledgement, praise, success. I thought a lot about the need for companionship.

I spent the past three days, in large part, holed up in my house with my roommates Tiki and Pinky. Pinky and I even shared the bed last night – in our six months of living together, that is a first. Tiki is beautiful and old and always happy to see me, and the greeting is quick, sincere, and we both attend to our own business in the house and stay out of each other’s way. Pinky is neurotic, bulimic, and bossy – she can’t hold more than a pinch of food down at a time, and insists on getting in my face, literally, whenever I try to relax, seated or lying down. Paws in my face. Drives me crazy. And Tiki, bless her, mastered the art of eating an entire loaf of delicious, expensive organic bread – the fresh baked kind with five or less ingredients, the same day I bought it. She didn’t share a single slice.

Love the dog. Tolerate the cat. Okay I admit... I kind of like the cat. Thought a lot about trading both of them in for a human today.

The other resident homo sapiens of the dwelling are out adventuring this weekend, what they do best. So it was just us - the canine, the feline, the reptile, the spiders, and the lone human… the perpetually contemplative human, who couldn’t go biking with her friends because she picked school first this semester, and was paying her dues.

I’m grateful, truly, for many things. I am grateful for the opportunity to receive an education, and the relative success the endeavor has been met with, this time around.

I’m grateful for some truly amazing friends and the blessing of having some of the world’s finest beings so close to my heart. I always feel that way the days I get to talk to Grace...

I’m grateful for the contentment I’ve found in solitude, and the time to reflect and focus on my goals, and just me. I've celebrated the independence like a kid celebrates birthday cake and Halloween candy.

But that only gets you so far. School has ceased to be challenging, I drink it up – love to learn and produce, but I have it dialed right now, it’s programmed into my operations.

I suppose what I am getting at, is that independence, in all it’s glory, can become easy, monotonous.


And it seems I have more energy to distribute, more interest to invest, more time to listen and desire to commune than I can exhaust. Maybe this is the calm before a storm; ski season has a way of exhausting all of my resources with expert efficiency.


Or perhaps this is growing up, this is the realization you come to when you’re about ready to invest in people’s lives, for permanent, for good. When selfishness has played its game, taken the winning shot and retired to the bench.


I don't know, but I'm sure thinking about it.