“You called to say that the weight of time hangs heavy on your shoulders, that in your quieter moments, when you put out a hand to still the whirring of your gyroscope, you feel prematurely old. I think that you think that I hold cupped in my hand the secret key to our sandy misspent youth. But all of my drawbridges are up and I’m not even waving to the crowds from the parapets. I have hit a wall and have nothing left to hand out, and I melted down all of those keys to make a helmet. Perhaps it pays to be prepared for the future by covering my head with the galvanized past. Anyway, it couldn’t hurt.” Lessons from the kissing booth
I have spent the evening reading this blog by my high school friend. Her words have kept me intrigued, entertained, and enchanted on an evening otherwise inundated with feelings of emptiness. Samantha has always had a way with words, always had a mind full of unique thoughts, always been one of the coolest people I’ve known, and I’m so glad to have reconnected with her after many years. She has a way of describing ideas and feelings beyond anything I could ever imagine. Her words are inspiring me to “up my game.” Yet, I know that my blogs tend to be so emotionally charged that painterly words are often too much to expect.
Lessons from the kissing booth28 08 2008