Wednesday, July 17, 2013

I am home, once again. I am home, the home where the song of the land matches the song of me.
I am home to the bay, the sacred incove with the properties of the ocean but the security of a pond.
I am home to the ponds, the little droplets of water in which I flip, dance, and childishly swim in as if I am queen of the circular captivity.
I am home to the ocean, the traveler, whom I have met across the glob. The ocean, the sea, the waves of salt water grasping your hand and emerging you into a vast, quiet world of peaceful rumbling- back and forth, to and fro.

the moon 
Darkness is
 Who knew that the beauty of nature could be so close yet so giant all at once? I am sipping the freshness, drinking the virtue of the world each day, embracing the shape of the stones and the touch of the seashells, digging my feet into the hundreds of thousands of millions of grains of sand, grasping me and pulling me in by my soul.
I am experimenting even in my regularity. We all are. Coming here each here has brought the sense that this is my place. My time. My world. My return.

What is the Earth really composed of? 

Is it really all rock and fire and water and air and elements and all the other scientific classifications we have made? 

Or do we make the Earth? 

But then again how could we possibly be of any importance to this huge planet when we are only an addition? 

                                                                                                        We haven't been here from the start.

  Yet we are now, and we cannot let now be taken from us.

 While my mom ticks away at her days in the sea of work, the troops, my brother, father, and I, have explored every inch of our personal vacationland. We've gone to Long Pond, Gull Pong, Dyer Pond, Great Pond, Duck Pond, Spectacle pond, Newcomb Hollow, Lacont Hollow, Whitecrest, Mayo Beach, the Audubon, Lieutenant's Island, Great Island, Uncle Tim's Bridge, and every where else not classified by name. We've rented boats, flipped off, and laughed like helpless, reckless, excited children.
We've told joke after joke, tried to humor-ise the unhumerable. We've told stories and read book after book. We've played game after game, rounds and rounds of endless card games. We've walked the same walks and swam in similar waters.
Yet this similarity is so new and inviting and still has room for exploration. I have really enjoyed being with my family, creating games, foods, stories, everything with my brother, and mostly, the scent of freedom is in the air.

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