it is dark out and i am the only one up, blogging from my mama's house while she and Asher both sleep. i have the sliding glass door open and the night time mountain air seeps quietly into the house. it is so beautiful here. my mom lives on the north shore of lake tahoe, in the town where i grew up for most of my childhood. it is amazing to return as an adult - to appreciate the beauty of this land in an entirely different way than when i was a kid. back then, it was...well, it was my foundation. i took it for granted because it was granted to me as a home and as a vast playland for endless adventure. this is not to say that i didn't know. this is not to say that i wasn't drawn to the crystal turquoise shores every day. i was. it was my daily bread. i breathed it without even thinking about it.
back then, there was no where else to be but the lake. daily and nightly we flocked there, running through sand, climbing over granite boulders, dipping toes, immersing bodies, sleeping in piles of each other-ness on rocky shores until a quiet, quiet dawn awoke us. all of my first loves are stories that are written in the language of the lake. the sandy beaches and big rocks are where we met, where we gathered, where we cried, kissed, loved and promised. we laughed here and we wrote here, we drank here and we smoked here. the sky (in her many colors) always curved perfectly around the water - both entities reflected a deep and chilling clarity that was hard to find anywhere but there.
it's quite romantic, really. it's nice to be here remembering all of these things. (nostaligia is one of my favorite pasttimes). now i am here with my son, who is nearly 8 years old, and i look back at that time in awe and wonder (ah, youth!) and i marvel once again at how a space can hold an entire era - how a space can define a time, keep it there like a fossil for us to look at, turning it over gently in our hands, breathless at the particular preservation of what has passed.
i met up with my best friend from that bygone era, who i have not actually seen in many years, though we remain (of course) bonded in each other's hearts and memories. our love for each other was young and fierce, and it was the driving force behind many adventures that combined the lake and love. she was my first love - this much i know. this place reminds me so much of her, and of us. we sat together and tried to catch up (so many years to put into words) - we spoke of our lives and i saw then, how our friendship is locked in the lake, too. frozen in the aforementioned fossil of that time. (so far away; so close to here.)
she returned to me a copy of The Prophet that i loaned her nearly 15 years ago. i find this very auspicious, as no one has "given" me a copy of this book in ages, and perhaps, if she had not done so, i would not feel inspired to read it again - as i should, and as i now will.
"but you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped or tamed....and though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing. for that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the sliences of night."