It's never too late.

And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way

Weighing my pockets with stones of longing

Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday.

They always come crawling back

Once my hair was dry and Sierra came home from a group meeting, we all headed out for a walk in the sunshine. I wore my new winter boots that are blue and shiny and soft and have big velcro straps. They looked funny with my tights, but they felt great. We wandered around the residential neighborhoods just off campus, like walking through a world of doll houses, picking out where we would like to live, which houses had the prettiest porches and yards. It was so calming to wade through the dry leaves in step with these two girls, agreeing on almost everything, appreciating what was different, sighing and dreaming of having our own places to live in that distant vision of adulthood. It seemed less threatening today than most days.

We were passing by a low yellow brick apartment building and spotted a boy in a tree. It was a small tree, but it was also a very small boy, so it was large enough to be adventurous. Hiding behind the trunk were another boy and girl, possibly siblings. They had caramel colored skin and bright smiles. The little boy in the tree said hi, so I said hello and waved back at him. The pair behing the tree cautiously came out of hiding and smiled too. Just as we were reaching the corner, the little boy in the tree dropped a large stick he was holding and it stuck in the ground like a spear, making a swift shhf noise and vibrating at the very top from the jolt of impact. All six of us marvelled at how straight it towered at that spot, and the little girl and I laughed, noticing how it surprised everyone. On the other side of the block, some men with the same skin and same smiles called out a warm hello. My roommates asked "Do we know them?" and my impulse was to say yes, to justify friendliness. At what age is it no longer cute to give signs of recognition that a stranger is walking by?

On the way home, I picked up a walking stick from one of the yards, and I noticed when we got back a light green piece of thread wrapped once around the top. I hope I didn't steal someone's favorite stick on accident. That would make me really sad. Normally I would go return it, but I can't remember now at which house I found it.

Some of our friends were playing frisbee on the chapel lawn. Kady, my friend from the Mali program, shared a blanket and some song lyrics with her guitar and a friend. She looked lovely, and looked me square in the face when I came over to say hello. They were singing "Iowa," the song I'd requested after we'd been drinking millet beer on a balcony in the dogon country. I slept next to Kady that night, and woke up to the sunrise and the sounds of hyenas and roosters and donkeys and birds. We sang a couple songs together this afternoon before I left to join my friends at more frolicksome play. I turned to watch them a few times, though, Kady and her dark-haired friend, laughing while Kady put her friend's earing back in, the friend's shy grin. It made me sad to see them leave.

Happily distracted, though, I found myself wrestling around with Theo, our gang gently tackling each other until we were all quite well decorated with leaves and grass. I didn't care that my tights looked ridiculous when my skirt flew up. I'm curiously happy with the way things with Theo are going. He was funny and nice and energetic and attentive. Still not giving in to unquestioning bliss. Sticking to my guns and enjoying the results. I headed home around 4:00.

And now Sierra and I will go get dinner at the dining hall despite her blossoming abhorrence for its predictability, and Suzy will go to the economics London program barbeque, and Pat will sit with us at dinner and avoid direct questions but pay me back for the booze that made him sick two weekends ago, and I will trudge to the library when it's dark at 5:00, feeling worried about my homework but uninclined to do it.

At 8:00 we will go to the townhouse to drink and unwind, and hopefully I will not be sheepish and reflective. And maybe I will go to sleep early, thinking about my wild counterpart breaking hearts at the Ebony party. And cringe when my alarm goes off at 9:00.

I should practice sitar again before my lesson, but it's hard to do with tights on.

~A

Last night we went to Napoleon Dynamite. I remember when I used to wear t-shirts with horses and wolves on them ALL THE TIME. Many of those outfits were tragically familiar. If I ever meet a kid who can dance like that, though, I will love him forever and ever.

Idyllic fall day at 4:17 p.m.