Thursday, June 03, 2010
I see a computer that just struck 11:10, almost 5 hours after I told myself to get up. I only slept in an extra hour, but I see a baby laptop, a 10" netbook that I told myself not to buy b/c I knew it would mean that I’d use it. I see my new cell that still receives messages from the all too friendly Latin American telephone company, Movistar, sitting on top of two bible study guides that I’ve been going through but haven’t yet found the motivation to pick up for this morning.
In the corner I see the worn out flip-flops that were my feet’s main source of protection from the hot Nicaraguan ground for the last few months, left right where I left them when I came home 2 and a half weeks ago. Before the trip I used them for everything, but since returning, I’ve found a new pair of flip-flops hiding in my closet. Black, fuzzy, slightly classier. I haven’t touched any of my clothes or accessories from those long months away. They are clean, but I haven’t wanted to dig into the bag of folded clothes and wear something so…used. So instead I keep recycling the clothes that were at one time old and now feel new.
I see an open notebook, left open to the page where my camera ran out of batteries and I had to stop capturing each sketch from one of my high school sketchbooks. It’s a drawing of a bracelet that broke and then got lost, a plan for a drawing that I gave away. It’s a faint, concrete but faded memory of something that I could once hold in my hand.