Boise Summer Days

The haze fuzes with the low clouds. It hangs above Boise's emerald canopy. No sun, just daylight. The taste of fresh, acrid oil of newly paved roads that wafted into my car as I drove to the library to write these words still sits on the my tongue.

I still strive to form a semblance of normalcy into my routine. I try to remove the paralyzing aspects of fear from my life. I try to embrace those sweet souls, those laughing spirits, and curious minds. I try not to be too jealous of their lack of fear.

I try to show it as a path forward for me. A way to return to myself.

Yesterday, I swam around Quinn's Pond. I need to remember I am a man. I need to remember that I am also an animal. I have a spirit that yearns for achievement, for life, for hard breaths. I need to embrace danger. I am only moments from the bank, but I still sometimes seize up from the fear the waves will engulf me. With no more than a moment, I shall be gone and only a blip on the world's stage. It makes me struggle with my strokes and makes me weak. I flip onto my back and stroke twice and remember that I have enough strength to swim across this lake multiple times. Then I am fine. I start to swim and find my stroke again. When I look out again above the water, half the pond is behind me, and I am making the turn against the broad side of it.

Last night, I went to see "Mr. Holmes," a movie portraying the end days of Sherlock Holmes. It was a beautiful film. He went in and out of lucidness as he fought his own senility. He formed a relationship with a curious-minded young boy. The young boy brought Sherlock's mind back, but also reminded him of his lonely nature, how ostracized from  normal society he felt. He felt a kinship with the boy, and the boy found someone to replace his father who was lost during the war. In the end, it was only a story, but stories are the things we feed ourselves to make sense of this crazy world.

The spectrum of life is long, and it arcs in the ways our imaginations allow. If I believe I shall never find a family, it shall always be a struggle (much like the lake). If I, however, believe that a family is a goal of mine, I shall steer my life in a way where I believe it will be most likely of happening. I have to keep my life open to the possibility. I have to get done with this moving every year, living in poverty, pursuing countless degrees lifestyle. Though, I must finish what I have started.

I take a breath, and I embrace the day. It feels too late to start, but I must and lose myself in my work or leave the day unfinished.