I went on an adventure today.
It began around 5 o’clock when Giselle and I picked Seth up, which was an accomplishment in and of itself as it is extraordinarily easy to lose your way getting to his house. But we got there without getting lost, and we drove down that curvy backwoods road with high-flying spirits and wide-open hearts.
I told them about a new story idea, and Giselle played a new CD near the maximum Nancy’s volume would go, and we drove alongside the sun, laughing in the golden-red light, and I thought, this is where peace is. this is peace and this is joy.
I could feel the beat of the drums in my chest, reverberating with the beat of my heart.
Their laughs made a better harmony than the music.
I’ve finally finished breaking; now I can heal. God can work in me and mend this broken heart and thank goodness he gave me such amazing friends like these . . .
The three of us, the Dragon Slayers, talk a lot. We’re never really at a loss for anything to say; there are always stories to tell, jokes to share . . .
It’s just a bad day, not a bad life. Don’t be disgruntled. Be happier than a pigeon with a french fry. Chin up. Nice fro, bro. Shine bright, sunshine. Just keep swimming. We love you. You look lovely . . .
We lost the light. We chased it to the other side of the earth and celebrated our victory in the squarest and most uncomfortable chairs we could find in the college building.
The four of us sat around this egg-shaped table in these square orange chairs that poked in the wrong places and cushioned in the wrong places, scribbling and laughing and scribbling some more.
I kept accidentally writing on the table.
Giselle kept intentionally cleaning up after me.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be the mother; I always, always try to feed people, clean up after people, check on everyone to make sure they’re okay.
We abandoned the chairs after a while, skulking around on our mission; smiling at everyone and chatting with the people we knew and talking to each other in hushed tones because it was getting late and we were trying to be inconspicuous.
I am tempted to say we failed, but nobody called us out, so I would be wrong.
I got a little sad and cold in my heart because the sun had gone down and that always hurts me, or at least it is beginning to again now, but we turned the music up even louder and rolled the windows down and none of us said much more. Maybe we were tired; maybe we felt comfortable in the silence.
I rode in the passenger seat with my arm out the window. The wind bit at my nose and tugged at my hair, threatening to pull me out of the seat and up, up up . . . until I looked down to see all of the lights below me when they’re usually above.
I have decided that I quite enjoy adventures.