1:30 PM Edit This 0 Comments »
7 August 2006 Because sometimes it is nice to remember out loud.
I love my life.
It’s just really good. Full of intensely beautiful moments. I am overwhelmed at God’s grace even more for blessing me with such moments so frequently.
Tonight I spent time with Evan. Our friendship has been immediate and honest. We understand, we can be silent together. We dream, and we share the sadness of having to wait to reach our dreams. We have some kind of cool freedom.
Tonight, I drove down to Evan’s new place. I met Ray and Forest who are his very cool new roommates and old friends. They are positive. It seems like the healthiest situation I have ever heard of Evan being in. I love it for him. We chatted with Forest for a little bit, enjoyed the company, the ease of a good fit. I toured the house. There was so much positive energy, I could tell Evan was really excited about it. It was so cool. Then we decided to go get some coffee and hang out where we could talk and share stories.
We swung by am/pm, got coffee. It was funny, it was easy, comfortable, free. We drove down to the circle and walked through an ally and up the almost empty street. We observed everything and mentioned whatever seemed coolest or best or different or whatever we cared about. I like this brick ally. That light is so ally orange. I love these old houses, so much better than new ones. The fountain’s different. Let’s not walk by them. Wow, this is beautiful. What a cool tree.
So we land at Chapman university. An absolutely beautiful campus. Evan is undecided on beauty and aesthetics and relativity thereto pertaining. I will educate him when I have made my decision on the matter, because this will be my retirement philosophy project. We walk at a fair distance from each other, down a sidewalk path, around a grassy courtyard between prominent seeming halls. And there is a tree, almost spherical in it’s attempts at reaching light. Heavy and rough, it’s low trunk top makes it an easy climb. So Evan and I take the challenge and find our places in the tree. I am cold and uneasy balancing with so much caffeine and so little rest. Evan is strong and confident in his actions. The tree is his jungle gym, a vacation spot from real challenges. We stand and sit and climb and sip our coffee. Evan smokes couple of cigarettes over the next couple of hours. We sit and talk, and Evan tells me his stories. This is part of the deal. The predetermined plan, which we can never come up with or stick to. He has lots of good stories, about life and medication and about his secret life as a mad scientist’s apprentice. He sounds brilliant and he is excited and dreaming out loud in the language of research chemistry and physics. I am of course aroused. No, but really I am amazed and engaged and charmed and thrilled at this side of Evan I have not really seen.
I don’t know Evan that well, and somehow we have skipped years by understanding. Somehow.
We sit in the tree for a long time. The sprinklers run for what seems like forever. We hope they will turn on below us—stranding us and improving our night’s story. I have lost a shoe and we drop our coffee cups as we finish with them. Eventually we are cold—I am cold and Evan has to pee. We continue our walk through the campus. Briefly peering through hall doorways that janitorial crews have left unlocked without knowing the kinds of strangers that would be looming about.
We appreciate the architecture to each other. We realize how much more our education would mean to us if it came in such a beautiful package. Evan hopes that those who get it, appreciate it. There is art everywhere. Sculptures and dedicated buildings and placards on everything. The schools emblem is so prominent it is probably imprinted on the toilet paper.
We continue to wander, find Evan a bush, Check out the law building, at what is now about two-fifteen am. We know it’s late but don’t say a thing. I don’t ask what time it is. He is the one who has to be up early, so he can call it a night when he wants. I didn’t want it to end. No way.
We walked back, close enough that I could feel his warmness in the distance between our arms. We noticed antique shops, and shared our liking of full veranda patio decks. I am glad that Evan appreciates them the way that I do and the way that he does as a constructor.
We find the truck and drive back and cherish all of the moments. They are so real. So very real and so special. We get back to the house and we talk about being tired and late and Evan should not still be up. But we could sit there all night. The two hours left of it. We get out and I side hug Evan because we have predetermined this as acceptable, I made sure of it when we said hello. And he tells me that we can hug for real and he is incredibly strong and his construction muscles lose there subtlety with the closeness. We express gladness about our time. We want to do it again. I will call him. I tell him it will be next week. He says, yes, he’d like it to be soon. He works a lot, but he’s flexible, so I should call whenever I’m free.
I seem to be getting a lot of that lately. I guess that’s okay. Just don’t ever make me choose. Let the choices make themselves before I even have to be involved.
And still, I love my life. It is so easy. It is so free. I have known pain and God graciously ended it before I gave up. I know this will not be the last pain. I thank God for this season of pure grace. Of pure love. Of pure giving in relationships like I am experiencing in most real way in this season of my life.
I love my life.
It’s just really good. Full of intensely beautiful moments. I am overwhelmed at God’s grace even more for blessing me with such moments so frequently.
Tonight I spent time with Evan. Our friendship has been immediate and honest. We understand, we can be silent together. We dream, and we share the sadness of having to wait to reach our dreams. We have some kind of cool freedom.
Tonight, I drove down to Evan’s new place. I met Ray and Forest who are his very cool new roommates and old friends. They are positive. It seems like the healthiest situation I have ever heard of Evan being in. I love it for him. We chatted with Forest for a little bit, enjoyed the company, the ease of a good fit. I toured the house. There was so much positive energy, I could tell Evan was really excited about it. It was so cool. Then we decided to go get some coffee and hang out where we could talk and share stories.
We swung by am/pm, got coffee. It was funny, it was easy, comfortable, free. We drove down to the circle and walked through an ally and up the almost empty street. We observed everything and mentioned whatever seemed coolest or best or different or whatever we cared about. I like this brick ally. That light is so ally orange. I love these old houses, so much better than new ones. The fountain’s different. Let’s not walk by them. Wow, this is beautiful. What a cool tree.
So we land at Chapman university. An absolutely beautiful campus. Evan is undecided on beauty and aesthetics and relativity thereto pertaining. I will educate him when I have made my decision on the matter, because this will be my retirement philosophy project. We walk at a fair distance from each other, down a sidewalk path, around a grassy courtyard between prominent seeming halls. And there is a tree, almost spherical in it’s attempts at reaching light. Heavy and rough, it’s low trunk top makes it an easy climb. So Evan and I take the challenge and find our places in the tree. I am cold and uneasy balancing with so much caffeine and so little rest. Evan is strong and confident in his actions. The tree is his jungle gym, a vacation spot from real challenges. We stand and sit and climb and sip our coffee. Evan smokes couple of cigarettes over the next couple of hours. We sit and talk, and Evan tells me his stories. This is part of the deal. The predetermined plan, which we can never come up with or stick to. He has lots of good stories, about life and medication and about his secret life as a mad scientist’s apprentice. He sounds brilliant and he is excited and dreaming out loud in the language of research chemistry and physics. I am of course aroused. No, but really I am amazed and engaged and charmed and thrilled at this side of Evan I have not really seen.
I don’t know Evan that well, and somehow we have skipped years by understanding. Somehow.
We sit in the tree for a long time. The sprinklers run for what seems like forever. We hope they will turn on below us—stranding us and improving our night’s story. I have lost a shoe and we drop our coffee cups as we finish with them. Eventually we are cold—I am cold and Evan has to pee. We continue our walk through the campus. Briefly peering through hall doorways that janitorial crews have left unlocked without knowing the kinds of strangers that would be looming about.
We appreciate the architecture to each other. We realize how much more our education would mean to us if it came in such a beautiful package. Evan hopes that those who get it, appreciate it. There is art everywhere. Sculptures and dedicated buildings and placards on everything. The schools emblem is so prominent it is probably imprinted on the toilet paper.
We continue to wander, find Evan a bush, Check out the law building, at what is now about two-fifteen am. We know it’s late but don’t say a thing. I don’t ask what time it is. He is the one who has to be up early, so he can call it a night when he wants. I didn’t want it to end. No way.
We walked back, close enough that I could feel his warmness in the distance between our arms. We noticed antique shops, and shared our liking of full veranda patio decks. I am glad that Evan appreciates them the way that I do and the way that he does as a constructor.
We find the truck and drive back and cherish all of the moments. They are so real. So very real and so special. We get back to the house and we talk about being tired and late and Evan should not still be up. But we could sit there all night. The two hours left of it. We get out and I side hug Evan because we have predetermined this as acceptable, I made sure of it when we said hello. And he tells me that we can hug for real and he is incredibly strong and his construction muscles lose there subtlety with the closeness. We express gladness about our time. We want to do it again. I will call him. I tell him it will be next week. He says, yes, he’d like it to be soon. He works a lot, but he’s flexible, so I should call whenever I’m free.
I seem to be getting a lot of that lately. I guess that’s okay. Just don’t ever make me choose. Let the choices make themselves before I even have to be involved.
And still, I love my life. It is so easy. It is so free. I have known pain and God graciously ended it before I gave up. I know this will not be the last pain. I thank God for this season of pure grace. Of pure love. Of pure giving in relationships like I am experiencing in most real way in this season of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment