In a note to my sister, I said:
I think of you all the time; especially now. I think about the word "Autumn" so often, as it is vibrantly before me, out of every window, on every street corner, around every bend in the sidewalk. The colors are beautiful in Haviland. I wish you could be here to see it, you'd really love it. It's so brisk and cozy; quite pastoral with leaves of brilliant color--altogether very much Autumn time.
At the present moment, I am lying under my bed, in a cocoon-like nook, very much at my leisure. It's quite lovely, being under here. This evening has been my quasi-spiritual spiritual retreat. I was being the prepared Navigator and getting directions for a bulk of my three hours under the bed, but the most of my time was, of course, reverted back to facebook. Oh, facebook. It has quickly become the drudgery of us all. So, I shall have a real spiritual retreat later on in the week. This has simply been a nice preface.
Yet, I have been encouraged by conversations with friends that I have had tonight, which is wonderful.
A few night ago, I was in quite the despondently whimsical mood, so I decided to read World Literature in the Bear's Den. I had a thought while reading--as usual, fully separate from anything Ovid could produce. I did not have any paper with me, only a pencil. So, I had nothing else but the inside cover of the thick text book. I thought on paper for about fifteen minutes, and then kept on reading. Then, someone came up from behind and began a conversation. Oh, the irony of timing sometimes. It never ceases to amuse me how perfectly timed some things can be.
I'll post what I wrote soon. It's quite interesting, I think.
I am missing home so very much lately; everything about it. Namely, the relationships, but my goodness, so often it is the quietness of our hill, or the dark, star-filled skies, the sun that causes the ocean to glimmer as it sets, or the enchantment of a walk in the avocado grove.
The more I am away, the more I fall in love with my home.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder"
Kansas is nice, it really is. I'm beginning ot love it very much. But, it's not home.
"Home is where the heart is"
Frankly, I'm not Dorothy, and don't ever wish to be.
That is, unless I can fly over the rainbow away from the world.
"Say, we're moving forward, faster than we really know."
It feels as if my body and mind have been moving so quickly lately, that my heart cannot keep up.
Five Weeks. Five weeks. That's all I have to do. Five. If the next five are as quick as the last five, I should be able to make it. Then again, the last five have been trecherously hard for the soul.
Which, I believe, poses quite the problem.
Although the colors have been wonderfully brilliant lately,
"...when you're gone, the colors seem to fade"
"I want to walk with you, on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows, knee-high: so won't you try to come, come away with me...and I'll never stop, stop loving you?"
"If I was a painter, I'd paint my reverie, if that's the only way for you to be with me...and I'm dreaming of a place where I could see your face, and I think my brush could take me there"
