Fetal Position

Seven days. All I have left of this part of my summer. And then I leave. Leave the town where I grew up, not knowing when I will be back. 

And then a week in Massachusetts. Another job, how many did I have this summer? And then I leave the country again: three weeks in Scotland. Two days in Berlin. A day in Oxford. I couldn't stay away long. And then Boston. Where do I put down roots? So many—too many—places; not there for long. Too many "and then"s. And then... and then....

And then already my senior year. "What are you doing when you graduate?" they ask me. Wouldn't it be nice to have an answer. How do I choose one thing? How do I even begin to choose? How can I choose now when I know how much I change in a year? How much I will change in this, my last year.

And then... what? 

The "and then"s surround me, press me on all sides. I try to sleep, but they suffocate me. I am crushed by questions and unchecked spaces on to-do lists. Time so short. Decisions so big. I collapse in, feeling the weight of these that pressure me, and yet, I rest, here in this fetal position as the thunder rocks me to sleep and the lightning lights up the room so I will not be afraid of the dark.

It Feels Like…

Hey all. Sorry for my brief hiatus from posting. For as long as I’ve been responsible for planning my own summer, those few months of “vacation” have been some of the craziest months of my year. I’m not sure if it’s because there are so many things I want to do and I refuse to accept my human limitations or if it’s because I’m afraid that relaxation would kill me due to my need to always be doing something or if I just know I function better under pressure so I automatically create pressure for myself when it is not naturally supplied. At any rate, I’ve been running around the past couple of weeks like a chicken with its head cut off, but now I’m finally going to buckle down and update this here blog of mine like a good writer should. So here we go.

As I am writing, my family and I are in the car returning from our annual vacation at a family camp in the Adirondacks. We’ve been going to this camp every year for 19 years, since my little sister was first starting to take her place in the world in the belly of my Momma. 

This camp in the Adirondack woods (aptly named Camp-of-the-Woods) is a little haven located on the shores of Lake Pleasant in Speculator, NY. There are picturesque little cabins along the beachfront and a snack shop on the boardwalk where you can get ice cream every day (just like it will be in Heaven). There’s a miniature golf course and a state of the art gymnasium which attracts budding basketball players like my younger brother to come play at all hours of the day and night. The dinning hall where the more rambunctious families eat, located on the top of a giant hill, is noisy and stuffy and always resounding with laughter. It’s a lovely place, no doubt, and all these aforementioned things aren’t even my favorite parts. 

My favorite parts of Camp-of-the-Woods are the breathtaking masterpieces painted in the sky every evening at sunset....

Look at that handsome brother of mine.

This was a very unique night. The sun was setting on the right
but it looked as if it was simultaneously rising on the left.

....And the reassuring sound of waves lapping incessantly upon the shore, whispering to me “Be still. Fear not. There are some things that will not change.” I love the feeling of the cool mountain breeze on my face and the warmth of the sun soaking into my skin as I sit reading “East of Eden” with my feet in the sand. 

And probably my most favorite part of camp is the feeling of the piercingly clear, fresh, lake water passing through my fingers and swirling around my body as I swim. The feeling of swimming in Adirondack water, so pure, so unique, is one that I have searched high and low for a metaphor or simile for. And until recently, I have been at a loss. But now….

The day was perfect for being on the water. It was less warm than usual, but still warm. The sun was hiding behind some clouds, but the sky was still bright, in a gentle, friendly sort of way. The water was calling our names. 
“Smile for a picture, my champions!” Momma said as Christa and Popi and I dragged the kayaks towards the water, waddling like marshmallows in our brightly colored life vests.







We boarded our respective vessels and ventured towards the creek beyond the bridge on the other side of the lake.

My kayak cut through the water like a steak knife through room-temperature butter. Effortlessly I soared, and once I got substantially ahead of the kids in the double kayak, I rested and let my hand fall through the surface of the water. I gasped at the shocking cool, crispness of the water. I yelled back to my dad, “The water feels like… jewels! Like… diamonds!” Jewels? Diamonds? No, that wasn’t quite right, but I kept feeling and kept searching, wracking my brain for the appropriate simile. It feels like… what? What did it feel like?

We steered our little kayaks through two industrial pipes that led to our favorite creek. The creek twists and turns around exciting bends that cause a feeling so great to rise up inside you that you can’t help but sing “Just around the riverbend….” at every turn! 

The sun was peeking through the clouds, and the Beauty of the moment caused me to think back in my mind to all the times I’ve felt overwhelmed by Beauty. Popi and Christa were back a couple bends fishing, so I just sat in bliss, letting my fingers twirl the jewel-like water, laughing out loud at memories of times that were so Good their memories still provoke the joy that I felt when they were happening. I laughed and I smiled and I tried to grasp on to those memories, tried to make them real again, tried to hold them tightly so they wouldn’t end. And as I did so, I found myself also grasping at the water. I attempted to capture that coolness, that jewel-like sensation, but it eluded me. It slipped through my fingers and left me empty-handed. I thought again of my memories as I sank my hand back into the water. The feelings came back. Feelings of joy and excitement, the feelings of cool, jewel-tones. And suddenly, I had it! My perfect simile.

The water was Beautiful. Cool, exciting, uplifting, sensational, but unable to be grasped. Unsubstantial, fleeting, and yet all the more Beautiful because of it. Placing my hand through its surface was like dipping into one of my favorite memories and reliving its joy and excitement. The water was like memories.


I could’ve stayed there floating in my kayak, eyes closed, face lifted to the rays of sunshine, dipping into the enchanting waters of memory, for an eternity, but suddenly I was interrupted by a little rainbow turtle peeking his head through a web of algae. His funny little nose and vibrant colors made me chuckle with delight, and I was reminded: memories can only be Beautiful if I choose to take part in the Beauty of the here and now. If I were to spend too much time submersed in the waters of memory, well, I’d just get all pruney! I thanked the water for its transportation to memory lane, and I thanked the turtle for returning me to reality where my Beautiful sister and father sat not far behind me.