This weekend, I hung art on the walls of my new bedroom. Near my bed, where I’ll see them when I wake up and go to sleep, are three favorite quotes.
Let everything happen to you. Beauty and terror. That’s Rilke.
Had I not created my whole world, I would certainly have died in other people’s. Nin.
Craziness is heaven. Hendrix.
“Why so many words?” someone asked me.
“‘I’m forgetful,” I said. “I need reminders.”
A couple of weekends ago, I drove two hours upstate with a group of friends in search of swimming holes and solace from the stifling heat. We hiked through the woods, leapt off rocks into water below, picked wild blueberries and ate them by the handful. At day’s end, we watched the sunset from an overlook by the side of the road.
There were no emails to check, no phone calls, no sounds except for the ones made by birds, trees, the shuffling of our feet in dirt.
“We’ll be able to see stars tonight,” someone remarked.
I kicked off my shoes, stretched my legs, squinted in the orange light.
Megan turned to me. “Remember stars?” she said.