hope
How could I live away from the gentle rush of the Maine tide? A place that murmurs like waves encouraging us to think fresh, warns us to avoid repeating the same routine, a salty laugh reminding us not to take ourselves too seriously. How could I live away from these tides and be the same person?
They used to have to do everything slowly. Pin hair up a few strands at a time into rollers. Sleep on the overnight. Stand at the sink talking while washing dishes or looking out the window. Boil water on the wood stove. Now everything must be rolled out in an instant. We want it all done yesterday. Faster everything is better.
I am rolling through the days my sights set on summer days when there is tiem to sit and wait and run and swim. Time to go to the beach, watch the waves. But for now I am rolling through days where there is time for nothing. Where a million things must be doen yesterday and none ever really seem finished.
I am chained by my inhabitions. Imagine if I could free myself. I would sing out loud in public, spin crazy ballerina circles in the grocery store, walk my goat on a leash into fancy stores smiling. I would call out HELLO FRIEND to strangers, wear things that don't come close to matching because they are soft. Perhaps tomorrow I will try.
We are chained to the past, the way things have been, but I imagine a different day. As school where skylight replaces florescent light, where memorizing lists is replaced by remembering what matters. I imagine classrooms where what we read is connected to how we live and classes that generate as many questions as answers.