If anyone was wondering, I made the sun come up faster.
I’m not sure how or why or exactly when it happened, I just know that a few weeks ago I was running in the dark at 6am and now I am running in the light at 6am.
I don’t have the time or energy right now to figure out how to read the stars or alter the path of the sun or anything like that, but if anyone out there has any insight to offer, I would love to hear it.
Looking back on my past thoughts, it’s funny to see how much changes and how much stays the same.
A few months ago, it seems as though I was fascinated by time and weather and all sorts of things. I still am now, of course, but I guess that I just already got it out sort of artistically, so it’s not as much of a pressing issue anymore.
It’s cloudy today and it rained a little bit in the morning. It feels like everything is clean. I still miss the sun, though.
And I think I will always be fascinated by the weather and the sky. I just always will be.
I asked the internet, but there weren’t any answers. It didn’t seem like anyone has ever asked this question before.
I’ve been trying to figure it out recently. The sun goes down later now, which I like, but I forgot that it would also start to rise later.
I’m not mad about it necessarily, I actually like to watch the sunrise sometimes. I just wish it would still come up at six every morning instead of seven, like it does now.
I always say that I wish sleep was optional. I love waking up early and I love staying up late, which becomes problematic when I’m running on five hours of sleep and way too much caffeine.
I fell asleep with my window open today. I didn’t really think much of it.
It was about eleven thirty in the morning when I went to sleep and I woke up three hours later.
It had gotten much breezier by the afternoon. And the light had changed.
I’ve always loved how the shifting sun makes everything look different. There is a distinct difference between how the light looks in the morning and in the afternoon. At 9 am, everything is bright, more of a white light. But by 3 or 4p m, it’s so much more yellow. And it feels different too, especially in the summertime.
I don’t know how to describe it exactly, I just know how it feels.
I’m still trying to find more ways to make the sun come up faster. I’ll let you know if I do.
But, it’s comforting to think
that the same wet grass I
walked across today
will soon turn brittle and dry.
It’s comforting to think
that, with the help of the rain,
the fields will fill up with wheat,
which will later be cut down
and turned into hundreds of bales of hay,
all lining the bottom of the hillsides
in a grid of little golden rectangles.
Then, in time, they will be shipped off
to somewhere far away from here
and the cows will return to eating
the new grass, gently swishing
their tails as they chew.
It’s comforting to think that
the world will continue to spin
and the sun will set tomorrow
and the next day,
just as it is meant to.
And I hope,
that in time,
I will see, and do, and live
just as I am meant to.
First, I made a left turn onto the highway at 9:17pm.
It wasn’t raining yet, just a slight drizzle. The roads were just starting to get wet. I forgot how much darker it is when there’s a storm coming.
As I got closer to town, I saw some couples wandering up and down main street, bundled up in coats and jackets, strolling under yellow light and holding hands.
I watched a little boy running along the sidewalk past a restaurant, clutching the straps of his backpack tight against his sides, the pom-pom on top of his beanie bouncing up and down as he went. I wonder where he was going.
By 9:25 the rain had started to come down a bit more. I rolled down the window to feel the cold.
I rolled along to a four way stop. There was no one else waiting. So, I looked up towards the street light.
A dull orange beam perfectly showed the rain coming down, lighting up thousands of little droplets falling from the sky.
I stuck my hand out the window, felt the rain hit me for a moment, then signaled right and moved on.
It was growing in a garden box at school, so I pulled a leaf off of the plant and ate it.
It was a nice, sturdy piece of kale. It tasted pretty good. I continued munching on it as I walked over to the baseball field.
Kale can be a nice snack, if you’re into dark leafy greens. But, as many experienced plant-eaters know, raw kale is quite tough to chew.
My jaws were getting a little bit tired, so I switched over to eating a different leaf that I had also picked from the garden box. I’m not sure what plant this was, but it was softer and sweeter than the kale.
As I was chewing, I twirled the piece between my thumb and my pointer finger.
I started to study the leaves. The kale was dark and rough. It was much more aggressively textured than the other leaf.
It was at that moment when I stopped chewing, for I noticed dozens of very tiny, white bugs all along the sides of the leaves.
I swallowed my bite, then tossed the remnants of my half-eaten leaves aside. I decided not to dwell on it too much, because I didn’t want the thought of the bugs to take away from the otherwise positive experience I had eating them.
(I would like to apologize to the innocent lives I took that day. I didn’t thoroughly inspect the leaves before eating them, and that was selfish of me. To the bugs that once inhabited the kale: I am sorry.)
On a completely unrelated note, this morning my parents and I went out to our tangerine trees. It was time to prune them. After about an hour of picking fruit and chopping branches, my dad said to me: “This is a chore that very few other people your age have to do, but you have to remember that it just makes you more cosmopolitan.”
Though I didn’t really enjoy being outside when it was 40 degrees, I did find comfort in the fact that our work would provide more fruit for us next season.
I never realized it before, but I am so thankful that I know how to take care of citrus trees.
I live in a place where I am fortunate enough to grow my own food. I take that for granted.
I hope that I will always have this luxury, bugs and all.