Monday, June 29, 2009

Summer Solitude

In recent years I've found myself more drawn to the outside during summer. I think it's a sort of escape for me since no-one in this family is ever outside except on the odd occasion. I always liked the idea of bronzing my skin but never had patience to work on it. Now I crave it. I crave the toasty yellow of the sun on my skin.
I lie outside and dream of my mum on her sun chair in the garden surrounded by fragrant summer flowers, her skirt pulled up above her knees just so she can take "a wee break". Eyes closed, freckles blooming and a slight smile on her face.

Peaceful and perfectly content.

I enjoy reading when I'm outside but since I finished my last book I haven't found another. Instead I lay outside with my eyes closed, thinking...
I'm still adjusting to my surrounding even though I'm used to my situation. It's strange how I thought it would be the other way round.
Five years have passed and I still feel so far from home, especially during the summer. Sitting outside at 7pm as temperatures drop in to a more comfortable and familiar range that feeling of 'new' is there again, just like last year and the year before that. The sounds are different, the light is different, the air is different.

The thought of sitting there like that as my parents are getting their final few hours of rest before starting their day across the great Atlantic makes me feel like a time traveller experiencing 7pm in my body in America and also experiencing a very familiar 3am in Scotland at the end of June in my mind. School's will be getting off for their summer holidays. My little town will become the busy seaside town with little shops that have buckets and spades hanging outside to encourage tourists to make the most of their time there.
The sun that's stretching my shadow right now is the same sun that's waking up my parents with soft hazy tones. The birds will be chirping outside their window and the seagulls will be singing nice and loudly. The air will be cool and damp, maybe even raining - almost definitely raining.
I miss it.

Most of all I miss the future. When I'll be able to visit more often and have those summer afternoons in the garden with my mum and her skirt and my dad lying on the path with a towel over his baldy head to keep it from getting burned.
It feels strange to be mixing these memories together like this.

I'm ok though. If it wasn't for that new feeling I wouldn't feel like this was an adventure anymore. It would be more painful. So, 'new' is good. I hope I don't get used to it for many more years but then again, I sort of hope I do too. I'm ready for a new 'new'.

Pictures are from the last summer I was in Scotland.
A lot has changed since then.

5 comments:

Lawther family said...

I am crying right now. I have no reason to feel like you and I are in the same boat, but for some reason right now I do. An ocean away from everything that is you. Thank you for this. You are amazing and I love you to pieces. I hope you are finding peace tonight.

emma said...

Thats how I felt when I was in Korea!! Now is completely different- I anticipate each new day rather than counting them till something else.. makes life much more.. living and moving like a dance or song where you flow with the rhythm.

Sounds beautiful the contrasts of light that you are experiencing- with experience comes changes.. embrace and enjoy it- you don't have to compare it all the time. But I think if i were you I'd be back to Britain with Stu in a suit case!.. you should both seriously consider it if it's what feels right- sometimes you've got to try a few things. X

Laura said...

EEEeee, Mandy, don't cry. I'm glad we have that connection though. Makes me feel less lonely or whatever this is.

Emma - I don't really think I'm unhappy. I'm kind of melancholy these days. I just want to settle down. I want to be part of a group of friends again and that isn't happening here. I feel like Stuart and I are actually growing old together and should have more to show for it. I'd just like the option of going home every now and again. I don't know how certain people who live over here manage to go back every year and have their parents come over twice a year too. I just don't know.

Chiemi said...

You know, that was a beautiful post. Kinda sad, longing melancholy, but lovely with all the pictures and memories. Sort of like a flash back.

Jessica Bjorn said...

Are you using a holga or a diana? If not and these are actions... you should use a holga. I think you will like it.