08.04.07

Ponderings during a summer night.

Posted in random at 12:18 am by juliebug

Nights were always what I loved most about summer. I would sit up on the second-floor balcony, which faced the street we lived on, and I’d sit on the (surprisingly comfortable) dividing railing between our neighbour’s balcony and our own, with my back pressed up against the solid brick of the houses.

Sometimes, I’d sit there for hours, just being part of the night, watching fewer and fewer cars go by, listening to the light wind rustling the leaves, watching humidity lightning light up the sky. Sometimes, my neighbour would join me, sitting across from me, leaning back against two supporting beams that had a large gap between them. He never did fall through that gap, never did plummet to the ground, never did impale himself on the shrubs or railings below. I suppose I should have let him have “my” spot more often, considering this, because a fear of falling was my primary reason for sitting with my back against the houses.

Later on, I’d write while sitting out there on the balcony, sometimes read. It always seemed to me that summer nights were made for quiet writing.

A few times, I’ve taken a notebook and a pencil and I’ve tried sitting on my windowsills, both in my room and in my guest room, with the windows open, just a screen between me and the outdoors. If I close my eyes, I’m almost 14 again, back at my parents’ house, sitting on the balcony.

A few days ago, I looked around my guest room. It’s never really been “the guest room”. It’s been my old roommate’s room, it’s been a storage space, and, in jest, it’s been a friend’s room. In jest, I started referring to it as *her* room, because she was spending inordinate amounts of time at my place and we’d get to talking and she’d miss her bus… so she’d spend the night in the guest room. Her room.

For whatever reason she has, this friend and I haven’t spoken on the phone in over a month now, and it’s been about 10 days since I last wrote to her, imploring her to talk to me about whatever issues she’s having, why we’re not talking, not seeing each other… and I’ve gotten nothing back from her.

So the other night, I reclaimed “her” room. For the first time since I moved here five years ago, this room is going to be a room that I actually use. I won’t sleep here, I won’t eat here, I won’t watch TV here… but I’m thinking I’ll write here.

And that’s where I am, right now. I brought my computer chair in here, I’ve got my laptop on my lap with my lapdesk. I have all my iTunes music back on this computer after a hard drive failure and repair. And I can hear the crickets chirping outside on this lovely summer night.

To new beginnings.

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