This is the latest I’ve stayed up in a long time. I can’t remember the last time I was awake after 3am. And despite the fact that I haven’t done all my work for tomorrow, have a test I didn’t study for, and will probably be up late for the rest of the week, I feel good.
I just finished my first attempt at Photoshop, and I think it’s rather successful. To unwind a little, I danced around the lobby before driving back to my apartment.
I spoke with my best friend for 17 minutes and 49 seconds, yet we still managed to do more than just catch up. We talked about tasting the emotion that was felt by the person who made the food you’re eating: That’s why I always think of who I’m baking for and how much they mean to me.
I went to a Relay For Life meeting this evening and am now on the Information committee with one of my closest friends.
I had a lovely dinner with good friends at Dollar Burger Night: A cheeseburger and a Shirley Temple.
I chatted with my favorite theatre professor and about five other students in her office for twenty minutes.
I baked a cheesecake from scratch Saturday night, furthering my attempts to not be so domestically challenged.
And, this weekend I intend to bake some more and have people over for a movie night. I’ve excited.
Now, I’m off to bed for five hours.
Good night, don’t let the bed bugs bite.
But if they do, hold them tight and say, “Good Night!”
The day is just beginning for this stretch of endless field. The thin, sweeping line of golden horizon is broken only by the farmhouse and barn, the silo, and the farmer as he walks away from the dawn and into the still-dark rows of corn in the West. His white skin is tanned and weathered so much that it matches the mud on his boots, and running after him is his son, who pulls the straps of his overalls onto his shoulders, managing not to trip as he jumps down the porch steps and over the puddle left from last night’s summer rain. His knees and feet seem separate entities nowadays, and lately he finds himself wheeling his arms for balance. This day falls steadily into the peaceful sunlight that comes after soft nighttime rains. Soon the dewdrops will be gone from the grass beneath the boy’s bare feet. He forgot his shoes again, and later his sister will run out with them hanging over her tiny shoulders, not noticing the flecks of dirt that scatter her clean white dress as the boots beat the rhythm of her run on her chest. But that will be when the sun is higher, and the heat just starts to be uncomfortable, and the breeze stops just so the farmer and his children can appreciate the full force of the sun in the stillness.
This day, just starting to gain its warmth, is years before the barn raising. Before the daughter turns sixteen and dances with her brother’s best friend from the farm down the road. Before their fathers smoke their pipes under the stars and talk about the war coming on. Before the wedding at the house with everyone they know, as the piano plays through the open window so they can dance under the stars. Before she puts on her grandmother’s ring and her mother’s dress. Before she stands on the porch as her husband and her brother walk away in uniform. Before the sleepless nights with a newborn baby and melancholy songs played on the old family piano, in the cold winter with the windows closed and collecting frost.
This day is like the morning that will come when her son runs out after his father and uncle. They head to the fields, and later she’ll send her youngest out with his brother’s boots before she does the washing.