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Kiwi Crocus
23 April 2007 @ 05:29 pm
I'm missing school right now. I don't like that. But it's 5:39 here, so am I really missing school? How does time work in situations like this, I wonder? My body tells me it's in the evening. That I've just used the day reading. My mind and even parts of my soul ask me why I'm not in history right now, handing in my paper.

Because I'm not there, and it's not done.

It's Monday and I'm across the ocean, and my paper isn't done.

I'm not going to go wrecking myself for that. I've had a hard, busy week. I won't be in school until Wednesday. The paper won't take long--3 pages, double spaced? I can write 1.5 pages in a heartbeat. Those sorts of papers have never been difficult for me, especially in a subject other than English.

It still feels strange.

My biggest urge right now... urges, really... I'll make a list.

1. Bring Snoopy to the Wrentham Elementary School playground and go on the swings together. Talk. Remember. Imagine. Feel the wind on our faces, remember good parts of our separate childhoods--for quite a bit of both, we both know, is scarred. I'm sure we could muck around in our childhood and find bits and pieces to hold like old, loveable teddy bears we never want to give up. And won't have to. That playground isn't particularly happy for me, but it has a swing. Swings work.

2. Run to Hitomi and hug her tighter than I ever have. Smile and laugh, then talk about the world and cry. Healing tears, then tender smiles, and then another confirming and strengthening hug.

3. Roll around on a crisp forest floor with Sarah/Peaches. Laughing. Screaming off poetry-of-the-moment at the top of our lungs, smiling as the patient tree-tops collect our words and send back their own soothing, wise replies. Giggling as we watch butterflies saunter in the cooling breeze and imagine the faeries fluttering about, offering their playful presence.

4. Tugging Robin's long ponytail and running full force down the hall, laughing at the fact that I no longer have a tail to pull.

5. Sitting on a soft couch near Mrs. Cav and snuggling into her, innocent and childlike the way I've always wanted the chance to be. Hearing as well as feeling her laugh at some odd phrase I invent.


I'm going 'home.' I'm not sure where home is as far as longitude and latitude, but I know I'm home here and I'll be home when I step back onto U.S. soil. I'll be home when I enter my house, then my school.

I've had quite an adventure. I'm ready for it to continue beyond April vacation.

Summer, I can see you approaching. You'll be as happy to see me as I will be to see you, won't you? I know this year we won't be able to frolic in quite the same way as we have been able to in years past, pre- and post-trauma. This year is the start of a new beginning, as all others before it, isn't it? You'll embrace me as a new start, love? Thank you. I'll escape under your gentle, soft wings and let myself be vulnerable. Let myself be opened and replaced and fixed, and then recuperate. Will you guide me through my first steps, my first smile, my first laugh? Will you hold my first tears, my first feral snarls at the pain, and the silence I produce after, not wishing to yield to the pain and show weakness? Will you smile patiently knowing that I KNOW it wasn't showing true weakness, but humouring my stubborn ideas anyway?

I know you will. Thank you. You're drawing closer, but I still have these weeks.

We will be reunited, you and me.

I promise I won't start up my fiery summer complaints if you don't shine you're bright Summer Sun on me to fiercely. We'll be partners yet again.

For now, Spring, I'm all yours.