Inky Experience Turning to Dusty Memoir

While studying with my back against the rough bark of a large tree just starting to be tipped in green, I can’t help thinking about the future. Dead leave whisper across new Easter grass; the last signs of a decay hesitantly skidding across the ground and blowing away as spring green emerges.

My heart is adventure. It wants excitement and novelty, thrill and beauty. Stagnate sounds like an unbearable curse. I want my soul to be like an ever constant spring where signs of depression and decay always flutter away making way for color that we have nearly forgotten and new life that comes from a hidden source. 

College has been an adventure. But I know I’m growing close to the ned of this book. Soon this amazing experience will be an amazing memory. At the end of May, it will never be a breathing experience again; the page I’m writing won’t be wet with the ink I’m blotting on the page, it will be a memoir I pick from the shelf.

Netted clouds stretch across an April sky and fold into thick blue billows. If I lay on the damp ground and stare up long enough, I can imagine that any moment I might fall forward and land on them.

The question is how I can make my adventures alive like the grass and clouds instead of like the dead leaves and stagnant water. As I move through this world, a tiny piece in a big picture, how do I head in a direction when I can’t see where I’m headed yet?

College was a dream but had a goal. Life now floats like the clouds above my head and I don’t know where either of them are going. But I am ready to chase the dreams I can see. I am ready to begin a new ink spotted chapter.