I ain't hit the roof since I don't know when...

Salmon Sunday.

A glass of white wine, the soulful smell of bonfires, the gentle breeze on my arms and face... Summer is almost over, I can feel it ending.

I was thinking today about how nothing is really my own, and I am kind of grateful for that. Sure, places can be mine, like the edge of my bed or the chair next to my window. Things can be mine, like my guitar or my computer. But everything that matters, everything that is on the inside, is shared. Opinions, friendship, love, insecurity, desire, anger, frustration, annoyance, lust, ambition, passion, inspiration. I don't need to talk about it to know the rest of the world is feeling it, too. That is strangely comforting.

I can't stop writing music lately. About God, and love (all kinds), and the little things. The ones I tend to miss when I am not paying attention. Things like smiles, and propeller beanies, and the way the salt from the ocean and the pine tree outside my window mingle together to smell like a beach forest. (Does that exist somewhere? It must.) White hair with silver streaks, and mouth wrinkles, pumpkin pie scented air freshener, yoga, and uncontrollable laughter.

Country is my inspiration, usually. Not so much the lyrics most days, but more like the banjos and the twang. And the heart you can feel through the notes. That kind of thing.


I can't get my charcoal to light. I have a three legged barbecue from Big Lots, and it doesn't want to work. I haven't dated in months, I'm on a sabbatical. (Metaphorically speaking.) And this is the first time in months I have missed having a boyfriend. Because he could light my charcoal, take out my trash, and check my oil. And I wouldn't have to worry about it. And it's almost worth the hassle of a relationship. Not quite, though. I nearly singed off my eyebrows trying to light the damn thing.

Well this was a magnificent attempt to kill time. My grill is now in working order (thank you, guy downstairs) and my salmon is ready. I think I'll make it a point to learn how to do manly things myself. Yes, I will do that.

Paige

What we are left with.

It's funny how those memories they last.

The ones that are created in the summer, when the air is hot and thick with the scent of pine. When responsibilities seem nothing more than a passing thought, and where the hope for romance lingers in our dreams.

This week a few friends and I traveled to Central California to visit Jalama, this incredible campsite right on one of the most incandescent beaches I have ever seen. We ran down the moonlit shore, ate too many peanut butter sandwiches, and reminisced on our childhoods and how fleeting they were. We laughed so hard we fell into the dirt, cried over each others memories, and carried each other through every trail in each others minds.

We met people from all walks of life, young and old, willing to befriend us simply because we were their neighbors. I played guitar and sang in front of complete strangers, and in my heart somehow believed with hope that they may someday remember me the way I will remember them.

Each family held a sweet sort of quality... like they were lit up by the magic of this place and willing to share that magic with everyone around them. We heard stories on first loves, (Melissa) travels to America with only $50 seeking a better life (Phillip), we were given advice on how to live by old men, (Mamut - "Never, ever give up")...

Sometimes I neglect the value of my own life. I worry about the simplest things, merely because my fears are larger than my optimism some days. But something incredible happens when you are comforted by complete strangers and their stories. You realize you have a story, too, and yours will someday be told. You realize life is worth living to its fullest, even if it's only to have a great story to tell. You realize that the little things you worry about are only little defense mechanisms... you learn that they are silly, really, and that there is so much more to be seen than the inside of your own mind.

And when this happens, everything changes colors, and the world lights up. And even if it's only for a second, you become aware of the fact that things are really more simple than they seem, and that love really can exist, and that everything is worth experiencing and appreciating.

Even if it's only for a second.