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Feb. 12th, 2004 12:47 amIt is late. No, rather, it is early; very, very early. The rest of the house is quiet. My only company is the soft whirr of my computer, the burble of the hot water heat, and the soft music in my headphones. The tea at my elbow has long been cold, but there's only a little left anyway so I don't mind. The woody-sweet flavor is soothing, and the steam that it gave off earlier cleared my sinuses for a little while. My IM windows sit dormant in my taskbar; I suppose it is akin to sitting in comfortable silence with my three friends, who are far away but still right here in the room with me. I'm finished with my bibliography assignment, but I'm going to wait a moment or two before going to bed. I like the wee hours, they're friendly. They're only disagreeable if you light them up and push them away and try to rush through them to go to sleep. Yes, I'm tired; yes, I need sleep. Here, though, alone in my darkness with my cold tea and the dim white-blue glow from my computer...here, I don't feel the anxiety that plagues me in the school hallways.
I don't have to think about the things I have lost, or the ones I'm going to lose when my friends and I scatter to the four winds. Sometimes, it looks like we're ready to go out and take the world by storm. We're all set to do great things...if only we could do them together. That isn't how it works, though. That's when things look bleak; when I realize that we aren't going to have the framework of each other to hold onto. I've only just become friends with Andy, and he's going to be in Houghton, or Daytona Beach next year. Eliza's the closest, best friend I've ever had, and she's going to be in Tennessee.
There, see? Thinking about it--suddenly the cold tea isn't so comforting. The music is sadder. The nagging canker sore in my left gum aches when it didn't a moment ago.
Here, I don't have to worry about it. The morning is an infant yet, and it's all mine. I have all the time in the world before that Dominican meeting is going to pry me forcibly out of bed by the ears. I'm just here, with my music, my quiet house, my shadows, and my tea. That's all I have to think about for the moment.
It's kind of nice, actually.
Dear Lord,
Please help me to keep this serenity tomorrow. Grant me the grace to get through another day, and keep all of us safe as we get up early to go talk about You and how we can glorify you through our trip to the D.R.
In Your name,
Amen.
I don't have to think about the things I have lost, or the ones I'm going to lose when my friends and I scatter to the four winds. Sometimes, it looks like we're ready to go out and take the world by storm. We're all set to do great things...if only we could do them together. That isn't how it works, though. That's when things look bleak; when I realize that we aren't going to have the framework of each other to hold onto. I've only just become friends with Andy, and he's going to be in Houghton, or Daytona Beach next year. Eliza's the closest, best friend I've ever had, and she's going to be in Tennessee.
There, see? Thinking about it--suddenly the cold tea isn't so comforting. The music is sadder. The nagging canker sore in my left gum aches when it didn't a moment ago.
Here, I don't have to worry about it. The morning is an infant yet, and it's all mine. I have all the time in the world before that Dominican meeting is going to pry me forcibly out of bed by the ears. I'm just here, with my music, my quiet house, my shadows, and my tea. That's all I have to think about for the moment.
It's kind of nice, actually.
Dear Lord,
Please help me to keep this serenity tomorrow. Grant me the grace to get through another day, and keep all of us safe as we get up early to go talk about You and how we can glorify you through our trip to the D.R.
In Your name,
Amen.
