lapis lazuli

"Oh my, I love your lapis," said the cashier at World Market. He was very friendly and extremely gay, and he flashed me the thick silver ring on his third finger. The blue stone set in the middle was the exact shade of cerulean as the three silver-banded rings I was wearing. He pointed and I looked down at them, flexing the fingers on my left hand.

"Thanks," I said, placing my Haribo packets on the counter. "I love this color."

"Me too," he went on. "Are you into Egyptology?"

A tingling of déjà vu crept down the back of my neck. Wasn't this the same guy from last winter who complimented my garnet ring and asked if I was born in January? No, I'd answered him then. I was born in December and I just liked the bloodred color. Isn't December's birthstone turquoise? Yes, it is. And I have a lot of that, too.

"Well," I said, "I did see The Mummy when I was a kid."

My grandmother's lapis scarab pendant still sits quietly in my jewelry chest.

back to school

There was just a sound that went with the end of summer. It was the usual cacophony of crickets, of course, but there was just another element that she couldn't put her finger on, and that was what officially made the change from summer to autumn, for her, anyway. Was it frogs? The distant hum of the highway? The leaves changing color? She lay in bed and whatever sound it was came in through her window and blended with the gentle thrum of the fan. It swayed back and forth across the span of her bed, rustling the sheets against her bare legs.

These days, the nights when she didn't wake up with her sheets tangled around her waist and the thin cotton comforter pulled up to her chin were becoming fewer and fewer. The air was more than crisp when the sun went down, and every day the sun was going down minutes before it had yesterday. Soon she would have to put her fan in the back of her closet and the vacant space would be replaced with soft, oversized sweaters and fleece blankets and plans to go apple picking. That didn't sound so bad.

It was still summer if she had bare legs. But now there was that sound drifting through the curtains, that inexplicable, indescribable, end of summer sound.

some favorites

Ah, that restless, anywhere-but-here feeling. I know it well. And of course it's starting up again right before I go back to Oberlin for my final year. Just my final year? I've been itching to be done for ages. I'm ready for other things.

Reminiscing about trips of yesteryear.

I'd give a lot to be in Rouen with Angèle and her one white eyebrow.

Back to Geneva. I could stay in this hostel.

This house in Rio Preto, Brazil was a bright spot. I was here for two weeks, once upon a time. 

The Royal Crescent in Bath.

I could join forces with the shadowy reader in the Jardins de Cluny in Paris.

Return to rainy Edinburgh, with its colorful shopfronts.

Oxford, England. Worcester College.

Lake Michigan sunset, believe it or not.

Roman couple in the Piazza Navona.

Or just go back to Venice.

quixotic

I've been driving too much. In these past two weeks, I have gone through New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan on wheels. But at least, when I have my way, I get to have the windows rolled down. And I have a talent for finding good stuff on the radio.

Heading toward Chicago, I was momentarily paused on an Indiana highway. Traffic was backed up ahead of me and everything was slowing down. And there were huge, white, whirling windmills as far as the eye could see out of my window. Snapped a few pictures of them even though I probably shouldn't be taking photos while driving. But I felt like Don Quixote. It had to be documented.

Lollapalooza was awesome, by the way. Awesome and completely nuts. I still haven't decided whether or not I'm any good at music festivals. But Coldplay was the best show I have ever seen.

Oh, and Michigan was okay too...

long sunsets

On the drive back to Ohio from New York, the sunset seemed to last for hours. All of Pennsylvania was awash with oranges and reds and yellows. Summer sun colors.

Sitting in the back seat, I thought about how heading west was an American tradition. How odd it would be to watch the sun rise for this long. Mornings are never as desperate. We always want to extend the day right at the very end, to make the last rays of light reach as far as they possibly can.