sunlight – To All My Strangers

Hello Strangers,

Isn’t that a nice picture? Look how bright the clouds are, and how shimmery the water is. I’m very proud of that one actually.

Henry (my partner and friend I’ve mentioned in past entries) and I went on a long drive and spent the day at the lake. For several months now, I’ve made some rather gruesome jokes about drowning, which he does not appreciate. The thing about it is though, there’s a certain mystique, a certain kind of romance around water and its temperament. Murder mysteries, ghost stories, and ladies of the lake. Not to mention, drowning in art is a lot different than drowning in reality. All kinds of symbolism and even hope in literature that simply is not present in real life accounts; in reality, drowning is just another way to die. Sometimes horrible, sometimes mundane, an unfortunate but not uncommon part of life. In art, it can symbolize anything from feelings of floating and sinking, stagnation, and depression, but also magic, freedom, otherworldliness, peace, and clarity.

As I mentioned though, it’s different in art than in reality and the simple truth is that despite all my jokes, I am actually terrified of drowning. I have been since I was a little girl.

And that’s why it was truly lovely to go to a quiet spot on the lake, pull out some sandwiches, chips and drinks for a nice lunch, and then wade out slowly onto the rocks. The algae was beautiful and absolutely disgusting as our feet kicked it up in the water, Henry grabbing rocks with his toes and “gifting” them to me to throw onto shore. I asked him where the edge of the cliff was under the water and he bobbed over to a spot and said “right about here.”

For the next several hours between bouts of exploring and playing games together, I swam out, rolled onto my back, swam awkwardly and slowly, and went further out than I’ve ever managed to before.

The top layer (about the first two feet) of water were warm. Almost like a bath, very warm. And when I would stop to tread water, looking at the navy blue surface and glassy sheen, I thought back to all those murder mysteries and legends. And the water was so cold. Three feet down it must have dropped 15 degrees or more. It was so refreshing. Motorboats sped past and nearby, families and friends floated lazily with beers in hand.

It was so nice to do something. Something very small, but I’ve never felt the temperature of water change like that. And I’ve never seen a lake from its middle. And no one has ever collected rocks for me with their feet. And I rarely enjoy the sun so much, but I definitely did that day. And sandwiches are rarely that good. And drives back are usually not so sleepy. Evenings not usually so content.

There was nothing earth shattering about that day, but it was nice to feel the reality of being in the water, in addition to thinking about the stories of it. I’m still afraid of drowning though. But that’s fine.

Anyways, all my love,

—Mabel

Hello, Strangers.

For the first five years of my life, I lived in Washington State. The sun rose at three-thirty in the morning, and by noon the sky was covered in a thick blanket of gray clouds. It would drizzle throughout the day, and this happened most days. My preferences were set. The blue sky was off putting to me, and white puffy clouds were ugly. I hated nothing more than the sun. From then on, every place we lived disappointed me in its lack of gray days and rain.

Many years later we found ourselves on the Southern border of the United States. The sun there was different than anywhere else I had ever been. It wasn’t yellow or golden, adding depth to the color of plants and trees around it, it was almost white. It bleached the desert ground and sky, turning them a pale tan and a faded blue. Frequently, there were no clouds to break up the monotony, so the blue sky sat motionless, the sun a pale king on its shifting throne. For months I felt physically sick looking at it, but with time, I learned to adapt. I would go out and squint at it, burn my arms, shoulders, and feet under its heat. I read books on the covered patio and sweat, and in the evenings I would sit on the low stone wall surrounding my house and talk to the memory of a loved one recently lost. It was the evenings that began to change my mind. Sitting out there, praying, or struggling with a memory, the sun would set behind me. The lights of the inner city began to glow in the distance, and the sky turned in a moment.

All of a sudden, there were swirls of wisping cirrus clouds and massive cumulonimbus clouds that looked like cotton candy, and it was like the sun reflected off a diamond. For about seven minutes, the sky held greens, oranges, blues, purples, pinks, and reds. I would look up and smile until my face hurt at what I dubbed Tolkien Skies, because they looked like they held epic adventures.

We eventually moved from this place too. The next place we went, the sun was back to its warm summer glow, and the green trees and earth returned, and I found I couldn’t live without sunlight as I had when I was very young. So, my dream this week is of a sun catcher.

I would like to build a wooden fence and gate, and all throughout the gate I would like to drill holes. In the holes I will place colored marbles, and seal them in with clear glue. Every day that the sun is out, they will trap its light and glow, and when the sun is placed just so in the sky, it will shine through them in rainbow beams of color. It will be the perfect entrance to my home and garden, and I believe it will make me very happy.

As always thank you for reading, and remember to dream this week,

–Mabel

Tag: sunlight

A Day at the Lake

Small Dream Saturday: Entry 3