On Exposure and the Supermoon

I am on my way back to my summer home after a brief, somewhat impromptu trip to Saskatoon.

I had a few reasons for returning to my home home--one of them being to eat birthday cake my mom made for me (Reese's Pieces ice cream cake--yum!). However, I was on the run from the moment I returned to Saskatoon.  By the time I made it in the door of my house to "stay" (11:15 pm) the ice cream cake was still not ready to be eaten so I went to bed.  I was up and busy from 8 this morning until 5:30 pm when I boarded the bus back to my summer home.  Now I am on the road again and realizing that I never even got to try any of my birthday cake.  Hopefully the rest of my family enjoys it.

This weekend was one of those times where I went home but did not feel at home at all.  After quickly unpacking my things on Saturday night I left my house feeling that I just needed to get out and away from the unsettled feelings.  So I did.

I pulled on my Chuck Taylors and rain coat and drove to the river to get a dose of fresh air.  Walking by yourself in the evening is interesting because it is rare to see anyone else alone.  Couples are out in droves, holding hands and exchanging knowing glances and saliva.  Families are out, too, some with young children with remnants of chocolate ice cream around their lips.  I climbed up the train bridge with full intentions of staying to watch the supermoon rise over the water.  I stood and watched the river for several minutes and allowed my mind to go where it pleased and feel what it needed to.  For a moment I wondered about what it would feel like to topple over the edge of the bridge and let my body succumb to the icy gray waves.  When things feel out of control I tend to crave, or at least imagine, feeling out of control in the physical sense as well.  Not because I want to put myself in a place of harm, but because a physical lack of control is so much easier to understand than whatever this thing is.  I close my eyes and imagine I am free falling and it feels good.  I breathe a little bit easier again and let my shoulders relax.

Not only does walking alone provide you with a perfect opportunity to people watch, but it provides people with a perfect opportunity to watch you.  I walk briskly and with purpose even though there really is no rhyme or reason to where I go.  I just like to move fast because it makes me feel like I am getting away.  As I walk I notice certain individuals noticing me.  Some give me glances that make me feel that they might know why I am alone and that makes me feel a bit exposed.  Twenty-two and still brutally independent.  Another flower-less season for E.  A girl around my age walks past me with a group of friends.  She is wearing tiny white shorts and a crop top.  I think to myself how ironic it is that I am likely feeling far more exposed than she, despite the fact that I am covered from the neck down.

I am glad to feel exposed, though.  My soul and feelings are normally so enveloped in secrecy.  Often I wonder why I am this way.  I tell myself that I am not trying to be so enigmatic, yet sometimes I think I may be the most puzzling person on earth.  I cannot even wrap my mind around my thoughts sometimes even though I am the one thinking them.  But to bare the soul when the time is right is a wonderful thing.  I have been brave enough to do this on two occasions in the past few weeks and I am glad that I have chosen to fear a little bit less.

A few days ago, I caught a glimpse of myself in a piece of glass.  My eyes were navy-gray and looked like little stormclouds, as they do sometimes when I am pensive.  It was a very strange feeling, but when my own eyes looked back at me I realized for the first time that I knew the girl behind those navy-gray stormclouds very well and that I liked her very much.  It is an unusual but wonderful feeling to know that you know yourself.  I recalled writing a journal entry for my eighth grade teacher on the topic of identity and how, at that time, I felt as though somehow I knew myself at fourteen in a way that I did not--and could not--at thirteen.  I never knew at fourteen that my mind and heart would grow so greatly and that my own character would grow into them and feel at ease dwelling there.  But that is where I am now, at twenty-two.

Scared and staring over the precipice of another new adventure but completely ready for it.

Hope you will come along for the ride,

E