Bird As Fish

I remember summer days. Short shorts. Warm days. Climbing the tree that stood over the bay. Feeling beautiful in the sun. Fun, that's what it was. I am always too worried about complications, consequences. And that was simply life without that.

Let it go, let it go, I always tell myself, but something within me is tenacious with a pitiful desperate intensity, about anything really. I am nervous, cautious and for some reason, it always reminds me of how a headache feels in your nose and eyes when your hands are cold. Odd, I know. That's how it feels when I worry. Summertime inconsequence. Camp this year was one of the very best times I've had. I had friends there. Sometimes I think I delude myself into thinking that quiet sunsets are the only things that matter, that writing, that drawing, that beauty, silent beauty is the only thing that matters for anything. I want to feel beautiful. But I grow up. If I used to be a violet, now I am a morning glory, reaching, reaching, climbing towards the sun, vivacious, young, full of colour. Still tentative, but fun, flexible, adventurous, going higher and higher.

Summertime makes me smile. Warm days, sand, tank tops, ice cream. But a lot of it was friends, confidence, and the lack of anything bad, the lack of worry. That is what I call perfection. Perfect days.

©2004 All Rights Reserved MJ Jackson
This article may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the permission of the author.