hmph.
okok, two posts in one hour. This one just started typing itself I think...
Do you ever lay down at night and imagine you're somewhere else? I've been doing it so much lately I just thought I would talk about it. Especially the nights when it's raining. I lay down with my window open, and listen to the rain come down on the leaves outside. But then when I close my eyes I try to make every bone and every cell of my body feel like they do when I'm in my bed at my cabin. I remember how the bed tilts a little to the right, even with the new mattress. I feel the cold wood wall next to me, and I imagine the blue dresser blocking the view of the faint light underneath the bedroom door. I can see just up the curtains above my bed, and the lightning will occasionally strike and leave an outline of the water droplets scurrying down the window like there's no tomorrow. I can smell the lake, and I can hear the waves crashing against the shore digging that cement block even further down until one of these days all that will be left is that small carving of "K + K RAMSTAD" and the date showing. There used to be an owl that would come out at night and it would hum the most calming melodies. I can always hear the soft breathing of my sister, steady and consistant, and of course, the rumbling snores from behind my headboard in my parents room and above them my Grandma's television blares on Jay Leno or Conan. No matter how many times I turn over, I still feel like I'm falling out of bed because of the slant, but it's almost comforting, in the strangest way.
I like to force myself to feel that when I sleep here at night. I want to remember that forever. I wake up smiling every day... I never really wake up expecting more, because that's not the way I was raised... I wake up and wish that when I open my eyes I will see smaller hands, lighter hair, and my old pajamas. I want to look at the clock and see it to be 8:00 and wonder to myself "why on earth am I awake?" But it wouldn't take long to realize that the lawn mower is going back and forth next to my window and there just happens to be an old man yelling "get up kell bell, it's a beautiful day... we've got some sticks to pick up." As much as I hated my grandpa for doing that, I wouldn't wish for anything else this summer. I would give anything to get those rides in the back of that mower with my sister back. To have all of that again... to read that silly dinosaur book or listen to records and rest my eyes cuddled in that chair before dinner. To sit and play around at the piano and actually be listened to. To have modivation to be amazing... to have standards set by someone that I loved and admired so much that I would do anything just to reach them. God I miss that.
Why do I only eat eggs at my cabin? Why don't arguments matter there? How come whenever I cry there the air cuts my lungs when I inhale? Why do I read ten times faster in my grandpa's chair than I ever have before? How come they moved the bakery? Why didn't I ever bike that hill? Why didn't we keep the vegetable garden? Was it just random that the spring of 1999 we had more Forget-Me-Not's than we've ever seen at the Cabin? The lawn was just littered with them, and the little yellow buttercups. Is that just random? And that new Owl?? Do things just show up like that to bring back memories? To tear at the heart a little and push you just one step further?
There was just so much there that lately has just been weighing me down. The Music Man just started playing on my computer...I wish he could have seen the play junior year, he would have loved it. I can't even count the number of times he would sing Music Man songs... for goodness sake, that record must have played a thousand times according to my mom. He loved music more than anyone I know, and he didn't even play an instrument. He just lived for the chords and breathed happiness in every note.
So much changed that fall. Right now, I just want it all back.
I want to say sorry for never giving him that hug the weekend we left. I never knew it was my last opportunity. And I want to give him hell for only opening that pop can half way.
memories will kill you.
Do you ever lay down at night and imagine you're somewhere else? I've been doing it so much lately I just thought I would talk about it. Especially the nights when it's raining. I lay down with my window open, and listen to the rain come down on the leaves outside. But then when I close my eyes I try to make every bone and every cell of my body feel like they do when I'm in my bed at my cabin. I remember how the bed tilts a little to the right, even with the new mattress. I feel the cold wood wall next to me, and I imagine the blue dresser blocking the view of the faint light underneath the bedroom door. I can see just up the curtains above my bed, and the lightning will occasionally strike and leave an outline of the water droplets scurrying down the window like there's no tomorrow. I can smell the lake, and I can hear the waves crashing against the shore digging that cement block even further down until one of these days all that will be left is that small carving of "K + K RAMSTAD" and the date showing. There used to be an owl that would come out at night and it would hum the most calming melodies. I can always hear the soft breathing of my sister, steady and consistant, and of course, the rumbling snores from behind my headboard in my parents room and above them my Grandma's television blares on Jay Leno or Conan. No matter how many times I turn over, I still feel like I'm falling out of bed because of the slant, but it's almost comforting, in the strangest way.
I like to force myself to feel that when I sleep here at night. I want to remember that forever. I wake up smiling every day... I never really wake up expecting more, because that's not the way I was raised... I wake up and wish that when I open my eyes I will see smaller hands, lighter hair, and my old pajamas. I want to look at the clock and see it to be 8:00 and wonder to myself "why on earth am I awake?" But it wouldn't take long to realize that the lawn mower is going back and forth next to my window and there just happens to be an old man yelling "get up kell bell, it's a beautiful day... we've got some sticks to pick up." As much as I hated my grandpa for doing that, I wouldn't wish for anything else this summer. I would give anything to get those rides in the back of that mower with my sister back. To have all of that again... to read that silly dinosaur book or listen to records and rest my eyes cuddled in that chair before dinner. To sit and play around at the piano and actually be listened to. To have modivation to be amazing... to have standards set by someone that I loved and admired so much that I would do anything just to reach them. God I miss that.
Why do I only eat eggs at my cabin? Why don't arguments matter there? How come whenever I cry there the air cuts my lungs when I inhale? Why do I read ten times faster in my grandpa's chair than I ever have before? How come they moved the bakery? Why didn't I ever bike that hill? Why didn't we keep the vegetable garden? Was it just random that the spring of 1999 we had more Forget-Me-Not's than we've ever seen at the Cabin? The lawn was just littered with them, and the little yellow buttercups. Is that just random? And that new Owl?? Do things just show up like that to bring back memories? To tear at the heart a little and push you just one step further?
There was just so much there that lately has just been weighing me down. The Music Man just started playing on my computer...I wish he could have seen the play junior year, he would have loved it. I can't even count the number of times he would sing Music Man songs... for goodness sake, that record must have played a thousand times according to my mom. He loved music more than anyone I know, and he didn't even play an instrument. He just lived for the chords and breathed happiness in every note.
So much changed that fall. Right now, I just want it all back.
I want to say sorry for never giving him that hug the weekend we left. I never knew it was my last opportunity. And I want to give him hell for only opening that pop can half way.
memories will kill you.