It’s mornings like this that make me think about summer camp. It’s that certain misty crispness of 7:30 am that tricks my mind back a few thousand years. I’m walking around the lake and thinking about destiny. It’s written in stone for me, because everything is when your 16. I’m sure in away that I haven’t been since that in a very small amount of time my life will “start” and once it does, well, boy stand back…
So now I’m thinking about disappointment and songs by the Rolling Stones. “You can’t always get what you want”… that’s something deep isn’t it? But I don’t want to jump back into my old disappointed skin. I want to stay a little longer in the sixteen year old mind, with the lake, and the certitude.
How good was it to feel that the world was just, that things happened because they were supposed to, and that thing were supposed to happen?
I hate mornings- that’s not true- I hate the entrance into morning, the waking up and leaving bed and all those other things ununique to hate. But there’s a cleanness in the morning that the world loses towards the afternoon. Ununique again to note the freshness of the morning, nevertheless, it should not go unnoted because it’s that freshness the draws out memories.
But was I thinking about freshness at sixteen? I don’t think so. I was thinking about building and destiny. I was thinking about every day that I was eager to have over with so that things could “start”.
But things don’t “start” they are perpetual. The building is slow. And the destiny imaginary.
The sun creeps higher, but will come again to that same low spot over the lake and it will always be morning again and again.