Wednesday, January 6, 2010
I had the luxury of spending a good part of my summer in Cape Cod the summer after my freshman year of college. My boyfriend at the time was living in his grandmother's summer house and I was living in Boston but spent much of my time at this house. The boyfriend worked the breakfast shift at a restaurant in town so I woke up most mornings alone under more covers than I usually use in winter at home in Texas. I would shuffle into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. I would grab my journal and put on my house shoes. I don't remember where I got there house shoes or why because they were not particularly comfortable since they were made of rattan. They were slip on and bulky, they were perfect for this morning walks on the Cape though. I would step out the back screen door and walk through the wet grass into fog. I would start down the street and then take a left down another short street. I made sure to stay on the grass since I could barely see a foot in front of me I assumed anyone in a car would not see me. I don't recall ever seeing a car go by though on these mornings. I would eventually hot the beach and I would sit, drink coffee and think. The fog would start to roll back and I would gradually see a foot in front of me, then the edge of where the water was lapping the shore, and then the sea itself. By this time I could see my journal and the fog would also have cleared from your head and I would write. I would write what I had done the day before, feelings, dreams, anything that came to mind. That summer I lived in Boston/Cape Cod I wrote in my journal every day, I should find the box in my closet where it has been living and see what I did, dreamt, and thought.