the last embassy
enjelani's journal archives

[ cast of characters ]

[ go to the archives ] [ return to the present ]

[ previous: "how many words is it worth to ya?" ] [ return to the present ] [ next: "in someone else's words" ]

12 June 2002 (Wednesday): that which cannot be named

Nothing like a week in Alaska to make one a complete snob about mountains. Lawd, lawd, lawd.

I could attempt some flowery descriptions of the scenery, but it doesn't seem worth the effort. Countless times I raised my camera and lowered it again without taking the shot -- it's so hard to capture the scale of the place, the vast silence of it, the stillness of thought that it inspires. Within the square boundaries of a photograph or a paragraph, it just seems like so much mere prettiness.

Ava is simply marvelous. Not that I'd forgotten what a joy it was to room with her, but it was good to be reminded. A friendship like hers is rare: the connection is instantaneous, and never changes with distance or closeness.

I've realized what it is. I need to be dwarfed by my landscape.
Hmm. I like that.
It gives me perspective, somehow. I'm not sure why.
Reminds you of your place in things, maybe? Where you belong in the big picture?
Yeah. Yeah, I think that's it.

At some point we joked that Zach should have dated Ava, not me. There were moments I had to smile, watching her notice the same things Zach would have noticed, voicing the same thoughts that might have been tumbling in his head. They've always understood one another in a way that none of the rest of us could. But there was never any romantic attraction between them, so.

In Anchorage I bought a $2 hematite ring and slipped it on the fourth finger of my right hand. I took Soren with me to Denali that way, close against my skin as I slept, glinting in the sun as I walked through a dry riverbed. Next time he'll be with me in person, I hope, and we'll just jump off the bus when the moment feels right, and wander off into the wilderness together.

One disturbing thing about taking vacations as a working adult: the way life moves hurriedly on without me while I'm gone. When I was a student, vacations fell between phases of life -- between fall and winter quarter, between high school graduation and college. I am not so fond of this frantic game of catch-up that follows a week of PTO. Ah well.

It's good to be home. Back to work.

posted by enjelani @ 09:44 AM PST

Replies: 3 comments

Welcome back, in every bitter and sweet meaning of the phrase.

posted by Moonpuddle @ 12 06 2002 01:59 PM PST

thank you, Moonie. :)

posted by enjelani @ 12 06 2002 04:26 PM PST

posted by @ 00 00 00:00 PST