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But if I can't have summer, I'll take fall. Fall is good, too. A good time for setting new goals, new routines, thinking new thoughts and becoming a new person. Fall is also a good time for trench coats. I have just purchased another one, this one an amazing shade of red, to my mother's disaproving lack of surprise. "How many trench coats do you have now?" She demanded as I handed it to the cashieer. "Like, four?"
"No, Mom, I have two. Two."
It will also be nice to wear jeans again without enduring the predictable summer criticisms to the tune of-- "Man, you're wearing jeans again today? How can you stand it? It's like 90 degrees out. You look so hot. Wait. I mean, not like that!!"
And I haggled for an amazing scarf and matching gloves in Peru, which I am also extremely excited to wear.
Peru... I can't say I don't miss it. Isn't that strange? I miss my roommates and Spanish the most. I find myself talking to the dogs almost exclusively in Spanish, poor things. But nobody else wants to hear it. Part of me feels like there wasn't enough closure to it. My personality is the type that (pathetic as it may be) would honestly have benefitted from a full-flege debreifing, but there wasn't anything. We got back to Miami, and I went to bed without saying goodbye to anyone. The plane ride from South America had been unimaginably bad. Standing in line at customs once back in the States was a nightmare, as I continued to hold my head, trying to keep it from exploding. The feeling didn't let up for at least twelve hours, and one ear remained disabled for a few days. Add to that the stomache that had been lurking around the entire trip... I honestly thought I was going to die. But I made it back in once piece and, miraculously enough, still recieve e-mails from team, despite my shamefully antisocial behavior that last night.
Another part of my personality is this nagging feeling that there can be no closure to Peru until I've written it out of my system. And I of course know this is true. I wonder when this dependency formed, when writing became my first and only coping mechanism. I knew in Peru how important it would be to trudge through everything little by little, instead of letting it pile up, and I wrote faithfully each day, either to Paul or just myself. I haven't had the energy to go back through my notes yet, let alone post them here, but I'm hoping that someday soon I will.
So fall will be nice, and if not nice, at least good for me. In summer, it's easy for me to slip into a certain oblivion, to become comfortable on my own and intentionally avoid places where I might happen to see someone I know. Fall pushes me back into society, no matter how much I kick and scream. It'll also get me into a schedule, which I think I will appreciate. And there's nothing like that first cup of hot, homebrewed coffee. Ah, the smell of predictability and crunchy leaves. I can't wait.
"No, Mom, I have two. Two."
It will also be nice to wear jeans again without enduring the predictable summer criticisms to the tune of-- "Man, you're wearing jeans again today? How can you stand it? It's like 90 degrees out. You look so hot. Wait. I mean, not like that!!"
And I haggled for an amazing scarf and matching gloves in Peru, which I am also extremely excited to wear.
Peru... I can't say I don't miss it. Isn't that strange? I miss my roommates and Spanish the most. I find myself talking to the dogs almost exclusively in Spanish, poor things. But nobody else wants to hear it. Part of me feels like there wasn't enough closure to it. My personality is the type that (pathetic as it may be) would honestly have benefitted from a full-flege debreifing, but there wasn't anything. We got back to Miami, and I went to bed without saying goodbye to anyone. The plane ride from South America had been unimaginably bad. Standing in line at customs once back in the States was a nightmare, as I continued to hold my head, trying to keep it from exploding. The feeling didn't let up for at least twelve hours, and one ear remained disabled for a few days. Add to that the stomache that had been lurking around the entire trip... I honestly thought I was going to die. But I made it back in once piece and, miraculously enough, still recieve e-mails from team, despite my shamefully antisocial behavior that last night.
Another part of my personality is this nagging feeling that there can be no closure to Peru until I've written it out of my system. And I of course know this is true. I wonder when this dependency formed, when writing became my first and only coping mechanism. I knew in Peru how important it would be to trudge through everything little by little, instead of letting it pile up, and I wrote faithfully each day, either to Paul or just myself. I haven't had the energy to go back through my notes yet, let alone post them here, but I'm hoping that someday soon I will.
So fall will be nice, and if not nice, at least good for me. In summer, it's easy for me to slip into a certain oblivion, to become comfortable on my own and intentionally avoid places where I might happen to see someone I know. Fall pushes me back into society, no matter how much I kick and scream. It'll also get me into a schedule, which I think I will appreciate. And there's nothing like that first cup of hot, homebrewed coffee. Ah, the smell of predictability and crunchy leaves. I can't wait.
1 comment:
That's an interesting way to look at fall. It's exactly what I need to hear, though, as school is about to start and the stress approaches... I agree with you, though. That we need the schedule and predictability that fall brings. I think it will be good too... or at least something different and a new adventure to take on. ;)
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