Getting Lighter – April 6, 2003

It’s so light out. I forgot how daylight savings time makes everything so light. Birds are singing in the trees, which I can see through the gaps in my blinds. It’s a perfect day, light blue sky and spring green leaves and cars just a whisper on the road. A billboard through the gaps in the jungle of apartment buildings, some model’s face and a slogan I can’t read, then a red square in the lower right corner. A tall palm tree beside it, in the foreground, towering over the billboard but too far away from it to cast a shadow.

I am 27 this year. It is April 6th. I am incredibly lucky; I have many of the things I’ve always wanted. A nice apartment; a room with a view; enough money to buy groceries and pick the good blueberries even though they’re out of season; a full kitchen so I can finally cook again instead of ordering pizza; plenty of clothes; good friends; a big bathroom that has its own sink so I don’t have to use the same one for the kitchen and the bathroom, which was disgusting even when I tried not to admit it; my mom and dad and sister; a job, which will probably be interesting in the next few months; a completed manuscript that I’m not sure what to do with; nice neighbors; a shitty world situation, granted, but so many things are good. I am a little moody, but I think that is just me. And it is light now, and it is going to get lighter.

Soon it will be 8 o’clock and I will be able to walk on the beach in the setting sun. I like that, watching the long shadows and the people on rollerblades and their dogs, running alongside them. I can hear the waves, too, soft crashing like a murmur far off of something comforting. I could fall asleep listening to the waves. I have done it in the past, but not for a long time. It’s nice to watch the seagulls overhead and the clouds sometimes, when they are there, and feel the sand uneven beneath my back, not quite comfortable but good enough. Good enough to make me happy while I listen to the waves.

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