Ode to late nights…

It’s nearing midnight.
I sit in front of the half-hearted flame.
My toes are still cold.
My soul feels less than full.
My brain is not completely functioning.
Homework left undone.
Sentences unwritten.
Words unread.
All is dark.
The only lights come from one small lamp
Also my computer screen.
Low battery.
I hear the clock
It is ticking ticking ticking.
Music softly plays.
A female voice.
All is quiet.
The fire dies.
Bed.

The Simplest

I’m writing this for you.
The one who forgets.

How great the love.
How acute the pain.
How vast the hope.

Live life.
Love life.
Love God.

I’m writing this for me.

Europe remembered.

“Gran Tour”* 2008, Remembered.

 

     Travel with me down memory lane.  Follow me through the best moments of life.  Come with me to Europe, and let the joy fill your spirit.

 

Do you remember the sun?  Oh the bright sun that seemed to be brighter than ever before.

 

Or, how about the moon?  The old man beaming down with the lights of so many cities, glistening over  magical canals and crystal waters, dancing across their smooth surfaces. 

 

And the rain.  Remember driving into Rome? The streets were flooded, and we were soaked just carrying in our luggage. There was something special about that rain, each drop was magical.

 

Oh, and how I miss the wind in Europe!  Yes, it seems almost trivial, but it was wind that seemed to smell of happiness, of joy, of all things good.  Ahh, the feel of the cool breeze atop the mighty acropolis, or the blustering wind aboard the ferry, which blew our skirts, and made our shirts billow.  Never forget the wind!

 

Ah yes, and next, the colors. Oh there were so many colors – the lush landscapes of green, the bright blue waters, the white white buildings, the grey cobblestones, the red flowers amidst the tumbled ruins.

 

Remember the ruins?  We saw so many.  Think about Greece, where so many of them stood in ironic juxtaposition to the rapidly evolving modern European societies.  It was strange – to gaze across a sea of whitewashed buildings with their bright shining windows, and see holes in which lay those few remaining traces of an ancient civilization.

 

Remember the hotels.  The lobbies?  The couches?  The long hallways and crooked stairs?  The smell of the sheets on the beds?  The rooms with a view?  The balconies and verandas?  The swimming pools?  The late nights?  The early mornings?  The losing of room keys?  The finding of room keys?  The laughter?  The late night angst? The resolve in the morning?  The breakfast – granola, yogurt and honey, and endless varieties?  Boarding the bus to leave for a new hotel?  Gone.

 

Gone, so soon… too soon.  But wait, that was not all.  Oh no, there is much more!  So, let us continue. 

 

Let us again board a bus.  We are on it now.  Landscapes blur past our eyes.  There is laughter as we play mafia with Mr. T.  There is relative quiet as some sleep, and others journal, recording oh so many memories.  Hmmm yes, how could I forget about trying to sleep on those bumpy busses?  And yet, I believe I came very close to succeeding once or twice.  It was comfortably warm.  There was music.  And we were so tired then.  We could sleep… maybe.  Eyelids slowly drawing closer and closer together, voicesblurring.

 

then, AWAKE…wake up!  We have arrived at our next destination.  And off we go. 

 

You know what I miss?  I miss walking everywhere!  I miss it so much.  You just felt better, and at the same time took in so much culture. I agree with Kate, I miss the dusty feet.  Its funny, in a way, I even miss the terrible blisters I had.  You could never feel too much pain though when surrounded by all that beauty. 

 

But really, I miss climbing to the highest point in a city, and finding a spectacular view stretching for miles and miles on end.  It was the best feeling in the world, being at the very top of a high point – like on top of the acropolis.  It was such a carefree blissful feeling of utter peace and contentment. 

 

But I also miss traversing deep under the earth to visit the ancient tombs – the catacombs.  Oh the catacombs…the air was cool, the spirits of saints come and past seemed to linger in that place, and yet it was not “creepy”.  It did not feel strange, but rather peaceful and serene.  A place for isolated prayers and meditation.  It was a truly moving experience.

 

Europe changed me.  I became drunk on life.  My soul was refreshed, and I was given new eyes to view the world with a fresh perspective.  A prayer at each church and constant fellowship.  So many meals together, and long evening meetings.  Constant discussion, and recording of thoughts all in a small leather-bound journal.   

 

I miss Europe!

 

 

* For those of you who are wondering, I did misspell “GranD Tour” on purpose.  For those of you who were on the trip, think back to the very first bus in Italy (right after we disembarked from the ferry).  In the front window of that bus was a sign reading “Rockbridge Academy 2008 Gran Tour”.