the sky above, the field below

Dear K-

I guess you could say I wasn’t too surprised about the lapse in letters. At first I felt a little forgotten and left out, but then I remembered you never were consistent with correspondence. I suppose I should be grateful that we’ve made it this far. Let’s talk in person sometime soon. Of course, that requires one of us to cross an ocean. So…you should start swimming.

As for commencement, I didn’t walk. I guess I didn’t really see a point to it. Sure, perhaps my friends and family would have liked to witness that hollow exhibition, to feel some sort of closure to this period in my life. I’m not really ready to draw the curtains; I don’t see the need to separate this portion of my life from the rest of it. Maybe it’s supposed to give the idea that my wild student days are over, and it’s time for me to focus on melting into the working class. My flame is just burning a little slowly, and I’m not quite ready to melt yet. Plus, how boring would it be to sit through watching my whole class walk across that lousy, multi-million dollar mess of a football field? Not my scene.

The days have been getting warmer, and I’ve been swimming through life as if time truly was a river, like they often say in that pathetic metaphor. I know you like running, and how it clears your mind and brings you peace, but I have my different methods. When the wind picks up, I walk the streets with my arms held high, feeling the breeze slip over my body and ruffling my clothes and hair. It’s like I’m conducting a natural symphony. With the flick of my wrist the tree leaves will shiver green and silver. I will pull the crescendo, starting from my waist and lifting my palm to the heavens, hearing the roar of the passing cars growl louder. Their staccato honks are beautiful improvisations on their part, although I do have some control over their frequency. The closer I walk to the center of the street, the more energetic and frantic their vocalizations become.

I hope you’re still doing well over there. Are you still going to Slovenia this week? Hopefully you’ll still find the time to send me letters…and hopefully you won’t end up with a bruised heart or a slit throat.

Take care of yourself.
-K