tangled beauty
We took a drive that ended with a lake in hopes to heal something, a crack perhaps that can’t be seen or named but leaves its mark anyway.
Last week I wrote that I’ll be spending the summer sharing old writing (I’m calling it the “summer of nostalgia for everything not trending”). This first piece is from June 2022. I didn’t make any edits to it and it was originally published on Instagram.
I love this piece because it’s one of the first fragmented essays I attempted. It was a quick-write (I typed it on my phone in the morning in a small cabin on big bear lake). My husband was asleep and the words came out so easily. I remember thinking that I’d finally found my voice and that it felt like one of the truest things I’d ever written.
I hope you enjoy it and I hope it brings up something for you.
ps- to those of you who’ve emailed me your old writing, thank you 🙏🏻 . These pieces are gorgeous. I’m working through them all and can’t wait to respond/share them (with your permission).
xx
tangled beauty
We took a drive that ended with a lake in hopes to heal something, a crack perhaps that can’t be seen or named but leaves its mark anyway.
On the patio of the restaurant, string lights in Christmas colors illuminate your face, your eyes not on me but on the table, on the floor, on my plate where I scoop ceviche with my chips and wonder how far away the ocean must be, the miles the seafood must have traveled.
Tears always sting my eyes when we talk and I don’t love that about myself but I let them run because why are we hiding any longer and what’s the point in wearing the mask when the mask won’t let you breathe.
I tell you in two years we will come back to this place and I bet it will all be different, I bet we’ll be surprised at how this journey ends and we will forget the hills we had to climb to get here. There will be new hills then, new reasons to worry and wonder. Isn’t that how it always is if you let the worry get you? It comes back, in new shapes and shadows, consumes every thought if you choose to let it.
Let’s swim in the lake tomorrow, I say, a statement, a declaration because this is what one must do when they can’t find their doorway, plunge into the lake. On the shores of nature, surrounded by the mountains that birthed you, you remember how to trust.
Come summer, the earth will be decorated in wildflowers, tangled beauties that will grow without rule or border. Only then will you laugh at how silly it once was that you worried about the seeds and whether or not they were there.
*nostalgia edition
Read: This was one of my favorite memoirs in grad school. I’ve been thinking about getting it on audiobook for summer (I have a feeling it’s probably excellent on audio since Jeanette reads it herself).
Listen: Starting strong with the nostalgic playlist. Heartbeats came out in 2006—did you know it’s actually a cover?!
Wow, that last paragraph! My heart!
So, so lovely 💛💛