Let's talk about Band of Horses. I was across the street, halfway across the universe with Emily and Avery and we'd lost everyone else somewhere else and we weren't listening until that beginning guitar riff from "The Funeral" came in -- you know that one? And that song is so good and we went running. We went running down the sidewalk, back across the street, back across the universe, and I think I pushed past a woman with a stroller (sorry, m'am), and Avery shouted something about getting back before the downbeat, but we aren't that fast of runners and we were kind of far away, anyway.
The point is that that was summer for me, like boyfriends and best friends and dirt poor, so be it, dirt poor and happy to be it because we had each other and that made us rich, rich, rich, starry-eyed and new.
And now fall is here, less sweaty and more apologetic, if you will, perhaps only because it has more to apologize for than its summer-y-ier counterpart.
Fall is here now, and now I am okay it with it, though, to be honest, it's taken me a second to get this way -- I have jeggings, hot coffee, a whole heck of a lot of transcontinental phonecalls, women in overalls, lots of yoga, girls with curly handwriting, and calculus, even, oddly enough, to thank for that. Oh, and Shakespeare. I always have Shakespeare to thank. Thank you, William. You're the man.
And this fall, I'm doing okay, with okay meaning "I really like waking up in the morning."
What I'm really getting at is this: Today, I finally opened a checking account, which made me feel rich, rich, rich in a monetary sense, and I am rich, but not like that. I'm rich because I have a full head of hair and brains inside my skull and boys who run cross country to teach me about rap music and I still get transcontinental phonecalls and someone made a mix of "Islands" by Young the Giant and "Into" by The XX, and that's basically the best song to ever happen to me, and I have good teachers and good parents and good sisters and I wake up every day and I really like it. I really like waking up in the morning, because I am not lonely anymore, because there are people who love me. I've never needed to be lonely. There have always been people to love me.
There are people who love you.
There have always been people who love you.
"The minute you let her into your heart, she'll take all your money and leave you at home." NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA.
All my love,
Addy
Remember when you could do anything? Remember that?
Remember when no one could say anything to slow you down? Remember when no one's words surprised you? Remember that? Remember that?
Remember when you weren't nervous? Remember when you had a place? Remember when your knees never got weak?
Remember when you weren't helpless for other people's words?
But then everyone said things that were new -- good! but new. And surprising -- good! but surprising. And then you got over things, but things came back, didn't they? And they were no longer out of sight and no longer out of mind.
And sometimes, things felt better, and sometimes, things felt worse. And sometimes, you ache for the past, but that's fine, I think.
Are you tired yet? I am. I am tired.
And now we're here. Stuck in this skin we were given and just trying to get used to it.
All those gold leaves.
All my love,
Addy
(please.)
Fall is here. I can taste it. It tastes like football games on Friday nights; the smell of soup and watered-down hot chocolate. The warmth of friends and my favorite tea. Cheers for That Boy who plays quarterback. The gloves and scarves and hoping for a win. It tastes like leaves falling off of the giant tree in the back yard. It tastes like being little all over again and running at full speed into the piles. It tastes like long pants and dropping tempuratures; cold winds, freezing mornings. It tastes like structured jackets and warm boots. It tastes like pumpkin muffins and school, early mornings, with frost tipping the edges of the grass. It tastes like new pencils, new shoes, new books, and clean sheets. I tastes like paperwork overload. It tastes like earlier bedtimes and warmer food. It tastes like the end of watermelon. It tastes like breezes and rain and kind of a little like the end of something beautiful... It tastes like summer is running off in her flowered dress and bare feet to sunnier settings and saying, "Have a nice year!" while Autumn tips his hat and asks, "May I come in?" It tastes a little sad. The tanlines fading into the pale of my skin, the last of the sand slipping from between my toes, swimsuits put up on the too-high shelf where winter coats used to be... But it's here. We can't stop the clock or stall any longer.So here it is. And here we go.
