i’m lying in the sun.

lying in the sun and hearing the faint melody of jack johnson. a few doors down, i’d say.

summer is on it’s way.

i haven’t been honest with myself. not lately.

the fountain streams behind me.

it’s like an out of body experience. i don’t know who i am today. the sun warms my skin. i feel that. it’s a perfect moment of fleetingness, and i know that, just like this time i’ve had so far. waiting for summer. making plans. then, changing my mind.

i didn’t know it like i thought i did. and as days passed by, i could see that more and more. until this moment. the sky is just as clear.

it’s just me and my thoughts now, i’m not surprised it took this long.

…pointing towards the sun, drinking every last ray of light as they closed their petals to dream.

the moon hid behind the clouds tonight, the glowing arc peaking through. i wish i could have taken a photo that did it any sort of justice.

sneak inside my thoughts and you’ll see my memory’s happy.

my chest just tightened when i thought about it.

my breath is leaving me anxious. i’m flooded with vivid memories of maui. that feeling i thought i’d filed subconsciously away just reemerged with a vengeance. i felt the air. the smell of the little hut i lived in…marijuana mixed with insect repellent and lavender.

the humidity and the burning sun and the sand stuck with sunscreen on my skin. the blandness of the water running over my mouth when i stood in that outdoor shower and washed the salt from my face. the sound of the creak in the gate, and the bang as it swung shut.

the heat of the nights.

the sprinklers on shopfronts that cooled me as i rode my bike down front street. the asphalt of the road on my toes as i stopped at stop signs. and dragging my thongs as i took off again. palm trees passing shadows over my body. the air-conditioning of grandma’s place. the big terracotta tiles under my feet in the kitchen, the darkness of the shower with the broken lights and heavy curtain. 

the shade of the banyan tree.

the coolness trapped between the mountains near the waterfalls near the winding roads. the dampness of the ground and the smell of wet dirt under bamboo plants so tall.

the feeling of my legs indented with marks from the swinging cane chair that hung from a palm tree, under the hut, next to the pool, at the place i called my home.

it hurts my chest to think about it.

i live for those days. walking and feeling the sun, the air, the coolness. i live for those moments of breathing so deeply i gasp and sob. and the air hits my chest and the feeling floods my body, through my shoulders and arms, to my toes in my shoes.

my fingers pulse and my legs feel a little heavy but the excitement builds and i’m left alone in that moment of mine, just mine, that precious piece of time. 

it’s happening more, lately.

i watch the weather forecast each morning. it’s those unusually warm days in winter; making it through those cold months; and then, that feeling as the weather warms to spring. those are the days that thrill me. 

but for now, the slow burn of this raw winter chill makes me happier than it has in seasons before. somehow, it does.

i walk to work to the beat of the music in my ears. 

i’m feeling a bit revived. like someone took a tiny ray of the sun and put it in my dreams. i like rainbows, a lot. that honest way they move me when i see them, is what i want to feel everyday - for every minute i live.

i want to know who gave me the sun.

there’s an ambition in me now, one i think i lost for some moments, when i got myself lost in some moments. i feel it bubbling under my skin and deep in my heart. the physical feeling from the smells and the sounds and the memories. the weeks lost in journeys and those people with their stories so full. the cherry that made it all worthwhile.

so grateful, i am. humbled, too. it’s not often you get this lucky - at least i don’t think. so i count my blessings one by one, day by day. you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

i lay here in a moment that feels like grace. if i could float i think i would. because i’ve found my plans again. i’ll wait, everyday, for however long it takes, to know that i’ll be seeing rainbows.

keep feeding me those little rays of sun.

writing doesn’t sit at the top of my priority list right now. it’s becoming something distant. a memory or a dream of something i always long to do…but just never have time.

what a stupid excuse.

life is getting away from me. there are a hundred things i want to do and want to make time to do. i need to get my head in the game. pick up my act. start living and forgetting about the things i should be doing. just do what i feel, live in the moment and forget about the consequences. throw caution to the wind. remember it’s now or never. one chance, one shot, one life.

what do i want?

i leave next week. it hit me this morning. when i woke up, stepped outside and smelled the freshness of autumn coming to a close (don’t think cold, think island). perfect.

outside, the sun looks warm. it’s only early, so i’ll wait a bit to bask in its burn. until then, i’ll pull together all my loose ends and bundle them as best i can. there is so much i still need to do, and of course i leave it to the last minute - that’s just me. 

so as i scurry to finish up my time here, instead of ticking off my list of things to do, i think. i think about these past two months (or so). how they don’t feel like that at all. days began to blur together. same tasks, same routine, same excitement. don’t get me wrong, it has been a crazy adventure that has tested me in more ways that one, good and bad. but i don’t feel like it has been two months. 

the first two days felt like two years. i was so unsure. so out of my comfort zone. after i relaxed a little, time flew by. and now, here we are. time flew by. time escaped me. that seems to be happening a lot. time flying by.

the sprinklers come on, shooting in all directions, making erratic patterns on my wall of sun and shadows. they remind me of routine. every morning. 8:40am. routine is bearable when you live on an island.

i imagine it bubbles. fries, as it browns. sizzles, as it pinks. shedding and peeling and drying and wrinkling. unfair. the price of beauty. everyone looks good with a little colour. it’s bad for you we are sternly told, from when we can remember listening.

i pack my i heart hawaii backpack with the days necessities: sunblock, water, ipod, phone, money (just in case). towel. i walk across the road. look left then right. i walk down a thin path shaded and cool under my feet, heated by the concrete just seconds before.

along the beach, i consider where to stop. i’ll stop here, no here. or maybe here. i think, and end up walking for five minutes. to the palm trees. i lay in the sun, glistening with sweat. praying for zero cloud cover and a slight breeze. i roll in the sand. unintentionally. i manage to cover myself in its grit. it sticks chronically with sunblocks and oils and sweat. i try, so hard, to scrape it off. i sit up in frustration. my hands, now also covered in sand, tell a story of a girl who tried too hard to stay clean on a beach towel that doesn’t compensate for the length of her body.

dumb effort.

so i lay back down, turn my ipod up, and after working up a sweat, i make my way to the shore line, feel the warmth of the water, walk out a little more and commit, finally diving through an oncoming wave in the ocean so clear.

satisfied with my 1.5 hours, i retreat to the shade and the cool. walking back, i get to the hot concrete, run across the road and slip into the rinsing shower outside. it’s own little cove.

gasp. the water so cool on skin so hot. fresh water smelling distinctly different to the salt my body drank minutes before. rehydrating. cleansing.

i wrap my towel around my hips and walk around the pool. i sit in a chair that swings and spins and makes me feel both relaxed and excited. my skin is cooled yet still warm to touch. you wouldn’t guess it, but pretty sure i’m addicted to the sun.

the weather turned golden.

perfect. 

so much food. such good company.

they just appeared. out of nowhere. one day there was nothing. the next day, there. making me a different person, at least it appeared that way. they didn’t give me warning. said it wasn’t their fault.

came, destroyed, left their mark.

freckles, you will be the death of me,

friday, after a morning of jet skiing, i noticed two things. my hair was noticeably lighter and there were freckles on my face where there have never been freckles before. only one of these bothered me.

i was beside myself. totally distraught. confused! i shouldn’t have this many freckles - it’s not like i’m a redhead! actually, i detect a little strawberry blonde, i was told. uh, no. i don’t think so. my natural hair colour isn’t light enough to be strawberry blonde (at least i don’t remember it being such).

the usual freckles on my nose were joined by more, more, more! up my cheek and toward my temple. i looked like a different person. younger, i’d say. pink cheeks and a face (nearly) full of freckles.

and now? they’re gone. they left. and i am waiting. waiting for my next day in the sun to see if they come back. banana boat, help me out here. i didn’t mind you freckles when you just sat on my nose. but when you try multiply on my face, i’m not so fond of you.

wake, skype: mum, sleepy. bikinis, shorts, singlet, towel. the front gate swings open. walk slowly, plenty of time, don’t need to sweat. arrive. 

sit. try to cool down. stupid order: chai, too hot for hot me. bagel, cream cheese, great conversation. mapping out life with a stranger/relative newcomer. 

walk. hot, in the sun. worried for burn. turn down a street, big hedges, beautiful houses, proud looking dogs. shade. sun, again, sand, kids, families. clear water, warm. relieving on hot skin. salty skin. salty sea. salty air.

lay. towels, quickly covered in sand, forgotten by great conversation. fashion, art, boys, beads, travel, home, study, life. hours pass. skin browned. sun cools down.

walk. still sweat, but breeze picks up. goodbyes, see you tomorrows’, great day. walk the rest of the way alone. passing strangers. tourists. locals needing my money. i’m sorry, i wish i could, i think as i walk by, looking at my feet. 

round the corner. home. rest. relief. 

great day.

catch up. create ideas. look at life in a different way. peaceful.

eat. bread rolls, mash potato, roast beef, beans and tomatoes. gravy. yum. satisfied.

retreat. write for you. for me. legs sting a little (oopsies) from the sun. only just pink. the warmth of my skin makes me feel a little cool. cardigan on. pink. makes me happy. makes me smile.

great day.

maui, maui, maui.

you have lots of bugs here. really big ones too. they come flying in and out of my room when i leave the door open for your fresh air. zoom right in, zoom right out. i’m sorry i stepped on one of your slugs the other day. if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t mean to and wish i hadn’t. it was pretty gross.

i’m also killing lots of your cockroaches and mosquitoes. i’m getting pretty good at it. with the help of raid (and clapping hands). i don’t think you like that much though, clogging up your fresh air, killing off your insects.

we went driving in your sun yesterday, maui. it was a beautiful day. you could have eased up on the wind a bit, though. it was blustery. i learned about the vog, volcanic fog, that covers your brothers and sisters - the islands you look at every day. i hope you can still breathe. maybe you should try leaving your door open for some fresh air.

you must get tired swimming in the ocean all day. but you’re doing such a good job holding us all up. i think we should treat you better. give back a little.

i saw your countryside yesterday too. wow was that interesting. dry shrubbery dotted with pointy, overgrown, frazzled cacti. cactuses. cactaceous plants. surviving as they do. no complaints. i could learn a thing or two from those plants. 

why am i inside?