Sunday, October 3, 2010

foggy mornings

Back in college I would occasionally get up early and sit on a bench that was carved out of a massive tree trunk and smoke cigarettes with my friend Carrie. We used to sip coffee in our pajama pants, surrounded by redwoods and silence, watching the fog slowly disappear. Carrie introduced me to this practice of hers-- getting up before the world begins to stir. She has a delicate nature, it's part of her charm, and I think that she needed to prepare herself each day for whatever would transpire with these moments of reflection. Regardless of how early I got up I would inevitably get swept up in it-- the sunshiny exploits of the noisemakers. But Carrie always maintained that morning calm. Inside her is an endless foggy morning.

My sweet friend just got engaged this past week. I knew that she would eventually marry the fellow she's been dating, but I was still somehow surprised and-- I think the appropriate word here is "moved." I was reflecting on those mornings in Santa Cruz and thought that, perhaps, in her silence, Carrie was waiting. Her eternal calm reflected a vague knowledge of something to come, a destiny she would gracefully fall into like a warm embrace. She's not just a bride to be but a grown up woman. A grown up woman who wears fuzzy gray sweaters.

I'm sitting here wondering what will happen when the fog clears this time. Little blond kids, most likely. I continue to be amazed by my friends and the fact that they just keep on growing up. Off we go again into different phases of our lives. Thank goodness for these milestones-- marriages, graduations, birthdays and such. Otherwise when would I take the time out to notice how wonderful and heartbreakingly beautiful growing up has been?

foggy mornings

Back in college I would occasionally get up early and sit on a bench that was carved out of a massive tree trunk and smoke cigarettes with m...