It’s been, for a lack of more original words, a hard year.

And it feels good to write that, kind of in the same way it feels good to sit on the front porch steps in the moonlit darkness and rant to your half-asleep dog about the injustice of the world.

But right now, it’s Friday morning, and most of the house is still silent. The room I’m sitting in is empty, and the light feels soft and curious as it stretches across the dusty windowsill and the refrigerator and the cardboard box with a gray rabbit hiding quietly inside.

Last night, I sat in this same place, playing the piano and wincing at how out of tune it was. Now, the plants on top of the piano seem to be stretching out their leaves towards the morning warmth, and the world feels just slightly different.

There’s a band-aid on my knee, which makes me feel a bit like I’m seven, and yesterday afternoon I froze in the middle of the room before ripping off my baseball cap and socks and running outside to get absolutely drenched in the summer rain.

I’m thinking about all the different people that exist in my consciousness, and I’m wondering where they are right now. Are they feeling okay about the world? Does checking the news leave them feeling sad or confused or just scared? Will they have bagels for breakfast? What would they think if they could see the sleeping rabbit and the way the delicate remains of a spiderweb are being illuminated on the windowsill?

The older sister of an a long-gone friend left a signed copy of a Kate DiCamillo book in the mailbox for me, a kid that she has no reason to know or remember, and the fact that hugging isn’t okay right now has never felt like more of an injustice.

I still don’t know how Camp NaNoWriMo is supposed to work, but I have a document with some mixed-up words in it, and I wrote a strange little poem about an astronaut:

only the moon was awake to see
a half-sized astronaut with dust in his hair
wondering at gravity’s limits
as he tugged open the screenless window
of the third-story bedroom where silence slept
and felt his oversized boots leave the floor.

Tomorrow will be Saturday, and it’s freeing to look up at the ceiling and remember that not a single person needs these words, which means I can let my hands wander over the keyboard as they please, just write for the sake of doing it, and it’s cathartic and calming and a even a little bit fun.

The Lumineers’ band name seems to me like the words luminous and pioneers put together, and I could be wrong, but I’d like to think that’s what it means—like they’re explorers on a quest to carry light into every uncharted corner of existence.

My violin case is sitting behind me, scattered recklessly with peeling stickers, and it looks like it’s waiting for something.

If every single person on earth shouted at the same time, would you be able to hear their voices from the edge of the atmosphere?

I don’t know, but a ridiculously happy piano song just came on shuffle, and my brother is awake and running down here to check on his bug cage full of grasshoppers, and, well—

(Kate DiCamillo, of course)

15 thoughts on “inexplicable

  1. OKAY THE ASTRONAUT POEM IS JUST ASGHGYDJKIFOLFH the literal cutest and just breathes happiness

    thinking of the word Lumineers that way is balm to my soul.

    you’re just one of those people who radiates light in every word, every picture and I JUST WANNA SAY GOOD JOB because I bet God is just like :)) when he sees you doing all these little beautiful things and I bet it makes him so happy to see you find all the tiny things he hides a little out of sight for everybody but you still manage to find


    Liked by 1 person

  2. 🌟Literally EvErYtHiNg that you post here flabbergasts me at the authentic and raw talent. Your writing is my goals. And I hope you never stop writing whatever your fingers type.🌟

    Ps…I wrote a piece called “summer” recently that reminded me of you for some reason :) Oh, and I also tagged you for the sunshine blogger award!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. alright i’m just gonna paste, let’s go
    “cardboard box with a gray rabbit hiding quietly inside” … there is one of those upstairs right now- not kidding. cardboard box, gray rabbit.
    “There’s a band-aid on my knee, which makes me feel a bit like I’m seven” … there is also one of those on my knee, for the first time in years. i-
    “I’m thinking about all the different people that exist in my consciousness, and I’m wondering where they are right now… What would they think if they could see the sleeping rabbit and the way the delicate remains of a spiderweb are being illuminated on the windowsill?” … our minds must be similar in some kind of way. you are somehow able to perfectly describe what i constantly think about, before i’ve even really acknowledged it. humanity is just fascinating, isn’t it?
    what a lovely quote, i will remember it forever.
    you say that no-one needs this, but nevertheless it gives something beautiful to the world. adds to it. something that didn’t need to be there; kinda like how we don’t really need flowers to live but flowers make the world much, much brighter.
    i’ll stop.
    power to the local dreamer ||-//

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m falling horribly behind at replying to comments, but this one can’t wait…
      I wish I could just sit and have a conversation with you about anything, because the way we see the world seems to be remarkably similar. Seeing how you always seem to understand what I’m trying to say with my rambling words is a very comforting thing sometimes. You’re a incredibly lovely soul, Jul, and your existence makes mine a little brighter – thank you. ^_^

      Liked by 1 person

      1. responding to comments is hard, I don’t blame you :) *especially when you overthink most things*
        ❤️ that would be lovely, and I agree. the color of the lens that we look at the world through must be a very similar hue. a purple-ish blue, maybe? with patches of fog and also patches of crystal-clear.
        and that’s so, so kind of you to say … I feel the same way :))
        you are one of my favorite things about blogging, and really about writing and life in general ❤️
        power to the local dreamer ||-//


  4. I wish I could see the world the way you do, and then be able to spin it into golden words to share like you do. Wow, your writing is all so magical asdfghjkl <3 <3


  5. Your thoughts are so beautiful. And I love your astronaut poem <3
    Can we take a moment to appreciate Kate DiCamillo? I recently reread all of her books, and they're so beautiful and full of hope and heartbreak <3 <3


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