I just finished reading the book "On Beauty" by Zadie Smith and loved it. I was particularly touched by one paragraph, one description, which rang so true to me.
The children repaired to a nearby café. They sat on stools lined up against the windowpane…They caught up with each others new casually, leaving long, cosy gaps of silence in which to go to work on their muffins and coffees. J—after two months of having to be witty and brilliant in a strange town among strangers—appreciated the gift of it. People talk about the happy quiet that exists between lovers, but this too was great; sitting sister and brother, saying nothing, eating.
Before the world existed, before it was populated, and before there were wars and jobs and colleges and movies and clothes and opinions and foreign travel—before all of these things there had only been one person, a brother, and only one place: a tent in the living room made from chairs and bed sheets.
(Nevermind the fact that on a good day I was allowed inside the tent, but on a bad day I was underneath the layers of bed sheets and pillows, begging not to be sat upon! Sorry K, the memories are just far too vivid ;)
My mother told me once that one of her main goals in life was to ensure that Kyle and I grew up to be very close. Suffice to say she succeeded. I remember one time, being very young and getting into some brother/sister fight which ended in a series of scratching and hair pulling (yes, on my part!) Instead of getting mad at us, she sat us down beside each other and calmly said, “Your going to meet a lot of people in your life, have a lot of friends, girlfriends, and boyfriends--but you will only ever have one brother, and one sister, and they will be one of the only people you can and will rely on your whole life.” I have carried this message with me my whole life, and have seen its manifestation countless times.
Finally, summer is here! Out come late night drinks on terraces, sexy sandals, flowy dresses, sun-kissed faces, and lazy days spent at the beach.
Weekend plans: spend entire Saturday and Sunday lying on the beach at Zaanfort.
Ciao Bella!
I’m having one of those days again, when I get this (panicky) feeling like I’m not fulfilling all that I could; not seeing enough, doing enough, creating enough. Being enough.
It’s hard for me to actually describe the feeling in words, that starts slowly in the pit of my stomach and reaches itself out to the tips of my fingers and toes, and when I do (in this case, yesterday to M. and my mum) it comes out sounding entirely different than what I wanted--some vague resemblance of the core thought entwined in a whiney melodramatic tone. It’s not disappointment or unhappiness with my life; if anything it’s the opposite! Mostly just a feeling that there is so much I can do, so many opportunities, and I want to make sure I take advantage of them all.
I know why this feeling is here again. Being around someone who is sick, who is battling for his life in front of me everyday, changes you. I’m reassured he has done so much, seen so much, been so much...and know he has so much more to come.
I want to think more, touch more, feel more, laugh more, talk more, cry more, try more, dance more, make more, cook more, create more, challenge more, learn more, sing more, taste more, meet more, see more, do more. Live more.
