The Spot - St Louis

Going home is always a weird scenario for me after having left for college. St Louis is a wonderful city, full of fantastic people and beautiful countryside, it has such a diverse feel to it – much like any big city – but one that makes you feel like you belong somehow.

            A pack of middle school boys whipped right in front of me on their skateboards as I was crossing the street to continue on the sidewalk,

“Sorry!” one yelled back at me before they disappeared around the corner into a subdivision of houses. I mean, at least they apologized which is more than you get in California where the pedestrian apologizes. My house sat at the top of the hill I had walked down and you could just see it between the trees; if you did not know what to look for you would never even know houses were even there. In some ways my house feels like a tree house, surrounded by lush, massive trees that turned beautiful fiery colors during the fall and shed them in the winter just in time for the frosts and snows to take over. When spring hits they blossom and rains pollen, which is a nuisance but you just have to take a LOT of Benadryl.

This time of year is way different. It is still green from the end of spring, flowers still dot the lawns and small land plots that have not been dug up yet, the trees still shine from the rain that we had gotten yesterday – it wasn’t as muggy which made my walk uphill a bit more pleasurable. Remembering every single crack along the way I had forgotten how normal it felt to just take a walk in the neighborhood without having to worry about bringing someone along with you or looking over your shoulder every thirty seconds. It was safe here, a happy neighborhood where nothing really seemed to go wrong, almost like a bubble that never aged.

            My feet crunched the gravel as the asphalt turned into a rocky path that led up to the large rod-iron gate, welcoming you to the park. This part of the walk was always the best intro to your destination. You have civilization and houses on one side with cars lined all along the way, and on the side I was walking there is a semi-dense forest that houses thousands of animals you almost always get to catch a glimpse of. The tree cover makes it look quite menacingly dark and the cloud cover didn’t make it much nicer either but I liked the feeling of mystery, of what might be in there watching me. I am so glad that nothing has changed much here, the houses, the trees, the untouched land. I approached the massive gate, walking through, smiling and waving at a couple who were power walking with their dog back out to the real world.

            I hadn’t walked down this way since I was a senior in high school. Crazy to think that was about three years ago and nothing has really changed except the weeds were more unkempt. The old river house that sits looking out over the wide Mississippi River looked as dead and romantic as ever. Vines hanging from the roof and the slate tiles they dripped from seemed as if they would slip off at any minute from hanging on for too many years. The multicolored river stone that made up the body of the house gave it a welcoming feel, despite the black windows that told you not to go in (but made you want to all the more).

There was a dead fountain with a centerpiece that looked like a frozen tulip, which was now more of a rest stop for hikers. We took our prom pictures right here looking out over the river, it was the first time I had ridden in a limo. I found the stairs that led down to the less-used trails; you could see that someone had tried it recently because of the shoe slides that looked as if someone had come really close to falling down the steep hill that landed on the train tracks. I hoped that one day someone would buy this old house, knowing it was property of St Louis Parks and Recreation, and would live in it again. It used to be a museum but that did not last long. I’m always afraid that one day I will come back and it won’t be there anymore. I’m always gone for so long it seems like someday I am going to come back and there won’t be anything left of my childhood because the rest of the world moves on.

Sloshing through the still damp grass underneath the century old oak trees, I remember underneath that circle of trees down the road and to the left is where I had my first kiss, farther down the path is where I saved my friend from overdosing, and also where I had my best talks with some of my best friends. I smiled as I reached the overlook that you can see far into Illinois from, I remember walking my dogs over here and putting them up on the banister, scaring them to death. I remember laughing with my friends and family in this very spot.

A deer gingerly stepped out from the bushes below the overlook and picked at some berries, I stayed perfectly still as I watched it nestle it’s way back into the brush not noticing my intrusion. They must be so used to people now it wouldn’t even have mattered if she saw me. Sometimes I feel as though I am the deer, that I have gotten so used to my surroundings that I forget how the world is actually supposed to be; I am supposed to run from frightening things and yet they don’t phase me anymore, I am supposed to defend where I live and yet, I let things pass by without a word. The river, though dirty and to some not very pretty to look at was stunning today - maybe because I hadn’t been here in so long, but it really was magnificent. It was raised up almost to the Illinois’ farmer’s crop, I always felt bad for him because the river was always threatening his livelihood this time of year and sometimes followed through with it’s cruel blanket.

I didn’t mean to be so secretive when finding my way to the no-so-hidden-anymore trail my friends and I used to get down to the river. I didn’t want to go all the way down there, just to the spot. I couldn’t remember if it was down this narrow pathway or the next, it was hidden so well and on such a steep slope that I was half afraid to try it alone. Then I saw a tree that my friends had marked a long time ago with a knife and I knew this was it, also because now I could see it wasn’t so secret anymore. I half swung down into the overhang-cave, almost falling down but I was able to steady myself enough to not hit my head. The limestone rock was covered with new graffiti and that made me sad, this was such a sacred spot and in just three years this is what happens. But, I could still find it, “Kelli – ‘09”. It was faint because I had carved it out of the rock instead of use a sharpie like the stupid kids did. My imprint was imbedded in the rock for as long as it the rock would let it. Thankfully the overhang, which wasn’t large, was just deep enough to keep rain water out for the most part. It was on a hill so the rain drained down to the tracks and into the river. I sat down on the ground and looked out again at the river – to me, this was the best spot in the entire city. This was the spot where I did a lot of thinking and a lot of praying while I was in high school. This was where I made my most important decisions, not all good ones, but this is where it mostly all happened. I took a deep breath and I suddenly realized that this place would not hold the closure that I was searching for, this is not the place where I was going to find peace, no matter how comforting it was at the moment. It was from here that I made new beginnings; it was here that I made the decision to come out to California; it was here that I made the decision to continue on in life never looking back but only to remember what I learned. It was here where I learned how to become an individual. This is a starting place. This was the right place to be.

Don't Climb On the Cannons - Charleston

My whole body jerked with the boat as it lurched to a stop, hitting the buoys on the dock of the small island. I watched my parents, mom with her face glued to the window as she "oohed" and "aahed" at the fort just rising above the mist of the morning, commenting on every aspect of what was visible, and dad as he removed the hat from his face after being rudely woken up from his nap. Oh, family. A bast of cold violently shocked my body as one of the ship hands opened the front door of the ferry, "We will be leaving at 12:00 noon, sharp. Be on the boat at approximately 11:45 AM or we will be leaving without you." This gave us about an hour, which was enough time for me, but I could see out of the corner of my mom's eye that it wouldn't be nearly enough time. I smiled to myself, I hope my mom never changes.

"Ready?" My brother, now a nuclear engineer in the Navy, placed his arm around my shoulder and smiled down at me. It had been almost two years since I had seen him and it felt like no time had passed at all. He had just finished his nuclear training at the fort here in Charleston and we had come up to watch the ceremony and to celebrate. I smiled up at him as he led the way for our family to the gang plank and onto the rocky shore of Fort Sumter. It is always strange to me how different you feel when you step into a preserved historical landmark, how you can sometimes actually sense the air change to an older, more distant essence. The walls that would seem like a giant castle to a younger child seemed unimposing and quite penetrable to me. The holes in the wall every 10 feet away from each other where the cannons would shoot through - I felt like I was stepping onto an island pirate ship. The families and school groups swarmed as my family and I briskly beelined for the entrance, desiring some warmth and a break from the cold sea air. Once I stepped inside it was a bit different than expected. A small bunch of tourists (which I despise admitting I was one of) were broken off from the larger group to listen to a very tall, very slender tour guide who you could tell had repeated this specific monologue once too many times today, and it was still wasn't noon yet. My dad was already loosing interest and slowly backed away from the group, no doubt to get down as close as he could to the water to discover small crabs while my brother, being the good Navy man that he was, listened intently and responded to the tour guide when appropriate. Mom was there, arm around my waist soaking up all the time that she had left with her two kids, knowing that this would be one of the last times we would all be together like this. With me living in California and my brother with his wife on the East Coast, it is a rare occasion to have us all together at once, and even a rarer occasion to have it just the four of us. The guide readily ended his speech, beckoning us to look around but to not climb on the cannons.

They were massive, exactly like the ones that would have been on a pirate ship, set on semi-circle tracks that would allow for the cannon to be moved by about five men to hit the target. They were massive hunks of metal...and were so enticing even for a 21 year old to climb onto, he really should not have said that with so many kids in the audience. The windows in which they would shoot out of were rounded perfectly for movement and aiming - I could imagine men dressed in uniform, red faced and sweating under the humid sun, pushing these heavy cannons to aim at an enemy vessel.

"Ready...Aim.... FIRE." I snapped out of my trance to see a little 8 year old boy with a coonskin cap and a stick he must have brought with him from the shore, he was standing on the little ledge underneath the hole that the cannons shot out of, thrusting his stick out like a rapier, ordering his imaginary men to follow his every command. I chuckled to myself as his mother came over and grabbed him off the ledge, chiding him for being so loud and lightly spanking him off to another section of the monument. I half-followed the kid over to an old storage/armory room. It did not have a roof but you could completely imagine what it would have looked like when it was active, with people going in and out, making assembly lines during an attack. My little entertainment found another friend and they began to pretend that they were in a real battle. Coon-head whispered to his friend, "Here, you hide over there and pretend like they are coming in from that way. I have the gun so I will be right here by the door. Tell me when you see them." she nodded very seriously as she ran behind one of the stone benches, shaking with fear as she peaked over the bench and stared right at the door, exactly where I was peaking through. "THERE!" She yelled pointing in my direction, the kid jumped out and pretended to shoot with his wooden stick. "Oh no, I've been shot!" someone shouted behind me, I heard a thud as they then fell to the ground, convulsed once then was silent. The kids were genuinely amazed as they slowly walked over to the person on the ground. I couldn't help but laugh silently as the boy looked at the fallen foe and then his comrade, held his breath then crouched down next to the body. "Is he dead?" the little girl asked. The boy reached out, almost touching him, and put his head down. "Yes. Our colonel is dead." I choked up a little. Suddenly the boy shot up and grabbed the girls hand, "No time to lose! We have to hide from the Juggernauts!" I couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Convincing, wasn't I?" The dead colonel smiled as he got up and then rejoined his group who were making their way over to the memorial gift shop.

I searched for a little while before spotting mom's bright blue blouse through one of the observation tower's cracks, then climbed the stairs that led to it. From up here I could see the entire monument; not everything is as it seems, the structure was two times the size that it looked. There was a big courtyard on the other side that had a great flag in the middle. It was a cloudy day so we could not see out very far - I felt as though I was one of those kids, imagining civil war times with people everywhere, the fort under attack and the ringing crack of cannons through the air. Fort Sumter in 1861was a Union base that defended and fought against the Confederates, one of the only ones on the eastern half of the United States. The fort was quite the building, looking as if it was just sitting in water instead of on an island, with it's walls leading right into the ocean's edge, the pictures made it look like a spectacle, a dazzling colonial building. The one last great battle that took place on the fort ended in Union surrender, surprisingly though the only casualty that happened did not happen during the battle but during the 100 cannon salute - one of the cannons misfired and killed one of the soldiers after about 50 shots were fired. Though it does not look like much now and definitely does not look like it once did, it stands proud and strong against the constant beating of the ocean and thunderstorms that rack the South Carolina coasts. The fog started to dissipate and we could see more of the land and how close we were to it, how frustrating that must have been during the war because they would run out of rations and could not get to shore because South Carolina was confederate country. There is so much about this little spot of land that shows the strength and dignity of America and what it stood for. Though we are a spot in the countries of the world we will still stand, though surrounded by enemies we will still fight even to the bitter end. As we made our way back to the ferry, laughing with my family and remembering how wonderful it is to be able to experience life together, I came to appreciate even more than before why America is so great and why my brother is so determined about his job. The people that fight for this country are the people that have a vision - the same people that had a vision for this fort, that when it was decayed and crumbling, our people - the American people - would be FREE; free to come whenever they wish to see the remains of what had been done for them. To remember that they loved this country and that they in extension love us because we are the generations they fought for. We are the people that they were thinking of when they loaded these cannons and fired them against those that would not defend the rights of all. Remember that when you have the urge to climb up on that cannon to first respect and remember what happened here was patriotism - it was love at its deepest.

Savannah

It is always interesting to me how every new place or city you go to has a different smell - not one primarily of spices but one that depicts a way of living. It's a smell that does not always match your sight but they usually get accustomed to each other after a short walk.
Savannah, Georgia is a very interesting experience. There are thousands of towns along the east coast that have buildings almost as old as this great country - but in Savannah, there is something different about Savannah. When you walk down the main streets, finding memorials to war and statues of great heroes of the past you cannot help but feel like it was only yesterday they were erected. Though people are not dressed in costume they all play a part in the reenactment; as though nothing has changed for the past two hundred years and no one has any intention of changing. Yes, restaurants, stores and people go in and out of the town but the feel stays the same, the smell is two hundred years old. The great bowing trees that make a cover the sidewalks and houses, are dripping with Spanish Moss in a way it seems to keep the atmosphere steadily moving on the same as it has always been. The houses on the main street all have little plaques that read their years, some dating back to the 1700's, reminding you of just how old the city really is and how alive it still is today. Throughout Savannah there are little parks that make a sort of a break in the middle of the houses, a little resting stop for walkers. It is here that most of the memorials and statues are placed and is here where the tourists with their whit tennis shoes and visors congregate to get every little piece of info. Not wanting to be caught with the tourists I shoved my hands in my pockets as I continued on past the third park and down the fourth street on the left, just as the concierge told me. Every time I blinked I kept my eyes closed for a split second longer so that I could imagine a bit of what it would have been like, you can still hear the horses hooves and people chattering...the smell I imagined would be similar back then though now it has a bit of industrial flavor that is not all unwelcome but just enough change to ground your thoughts. The river was in sight when the street broke the line of houses and I paused a bit every time just to let the image sink in. My hair sticking to my face, I pressed on to the little cafe, smiling every so often at anyone who would look at me, smelling every single shop and restaurant that I passed, wanting to walk in and try every single one of them.
The cafe was a small thing on the corner, a little bakery that had been there forever. I ordered some sandwiches and chatted a bit with the kid behind the counter before starting to head back through old town Savannah to the hotel and to my family; this was the first vacation I have been on since school started and they couldn't have picked a better place. Before I turned back towards the third park I couldn't help after being visually taunted a bit to turn down one of the roads that led to the river. Though it wasn't too much of a rebellious decision it gave me some sort of high exploring for myself a bit. I don't know if it was the sky getting darker or what but I noticed that the houses didn't get much lighter as I continued to walk. It wasn't far but it felt like I had entered into another territory, not unhappy but I think it just felt older. I got to the end of the street and slowly climbed down some perilous stairs that had been there obviously since the city began. With the help of the railing I finished scaling the stairs on the ancient wall and avoided the gaping holes in the cobblestones as I shuffled myself to the big chain fence that separated the river parking from the street. With no surprise the biggest thing that caught my eye was a big globe that was cut in half as you looked out towards the river. I swung both legs over and walked up to it, stepping between it carefully like it was going to clamp down on me like a clam. There were names written of men that had served in World War II, men that gave their lives for our country in the war that split the world in half. It was quite an experience for me. My brother is now in the Navy and I knew that someday he might have his name written on a plaque somewhere commemorating his life. I stayed there for a while, letting the thoughts of all that have walked through this open tunnel hug me while I let a tear cool my cheek. I left a thought and a prayer as I walked out the other side. It was right then that I noticed a group of about six wanderers sitting on and around a bench, playing their various instruments. Some were young and some were a bit older but they were all signing together and making music. The street lights had been on for a while but just at this moment they were starting to show their presence as the sun began to sink towards the horizon. I could hear laughter from the river boat just a little ways up and music blaring in a yellow feel, but it didn't drown out the wanderers. I am more used to sea air now than river but to me this smell felt like home, the muddy texture and wet breeze took me back a little as I watched the smoke stacks push out their black clouds. I realized I liked being on this side of the river, I looked out and didn't mind staying put right where I was instead of trying to reach the other place I could see. The river people singing me into history and cobblestones beneath my feet brought me to a place I knew was timeless - This is why I travel.


Experiencing life through travel is one of the most intriguing thing about life. I know that God wanted me to travel because there is not place that feels more like home than when I am able to experience a culture to its fullest. I am taking a class called "Travel Writing" that pushes me to experience travel and to write about it so here I am, for some of you it has been years, writing again in this blog. I have been learning from the reading so much about style and experience. Two people can experience a place and their experiences may be similar but their writings are going to be vastly different. Some people write in narrative - which is my favored method of writing - and some like to write down the facts and all the little things they learned about the place. I read about a man's trip to Cuba with his wife and it was breathtaking how he described life, how he narrated his trip. I have the travel bug so when people narrate things I am able to experience what they experienced even through their eyes. Imagination is the most freeing thing that we have as humans because no matter what people do to us they cannot take away our thoughts, they can control them to a certain extent but we always have the ability to imagine things. So thus starts this travel blog, "Today Is the Day" is my experiential gift to you :)

beginnings

Sometimes things come to an end. Not always are they the best or the most favorite things to allow to happen but they are not only the things that need to happen. The things that make us stronger than who we ever thought we could be. She gazed out the window contemplating her next move. Should she call him back or let it go. Four years of her life she gave him and it all turned out to be a waste. But really was it what everyone would call "failure" and "it doesnt matter anymore" would she let herself believe that it all wasnt true and there really is no such thing as "true love." No matter what other turmoil was going on in her head she knew that he was in her life for a reason and that regretting it would just mean that she was ignoring and horrified at what she became which is the exact opposite of the thoughts running through her mind. She grabbed a pillow off her bed and sat on her window seat, letting tears stream down her face and they seemed like fire on her raw, freezing cheeks. Her mind went many places but the thoughts were all connected, not wanting to forget the past but also wanting to not so much plan her future but know where to begin. Is there actually a love out there that can actually last? Does it come by us with fear or with happiness? Which one is going to hit her because she is visibly tired of the nasty games that ensue around her and her only control is to end it before it gets worse for her and better for him. That doesn't make sence but actually it should. The happiness found in love can only be achieved by a model of the higher power and if only one person in the duo believes that that is the model to live by, the relationship's lasting promise gets jeaprodized. Truth? Possibly. But thinking things over, she wiped her firey cheeks and sniffled as she got up from her windowseat and threw her phone on her bed, and walked out the door.

Sitting here looking out the window

I sat here, looking out the window, watching at the time went by and I wonder. What about? The sky, the birds, the cars, the houses, the people, the cities. Nothing in particular. Nothing at all. Does anything matter? Does everything matter? Does the fly that's ticking my ear and annoying me matter? does the music that is playing in the background matter to anyone but me? Why do I sit here and think about questions? When will the answers come or when will they actually make since? I sat at the piano and played a note, pretty soon I was forming a melody that I had made up in my mind but that didn't make since but still was beautiful but...not complete. Does my life actually play out like this? No aim, something good but never an end? The questions kept coming and I couldn't take it anymore. I got up, frustrated, and grabbed my keys and jacket as I mumbled "I'll be back soon" to mom and walked out the door. I didn't plan on going anywhere in particular but its where I always end up going. I sat in my car for a good five minutes before I got enough courage to get out of the car and close the door behind me. I walked beneath the trees and looked down mostly, but every once in a while I would hear the sound of someone approaching and glance up to make sure I wasn't in their way. No one knew me, no one should even want to know me. I reached my destination and let a sigh of relief slip from my lungs and desinigrate into the cold crisp air. I looked out over the river and watched as a barge chugged by, the birds chattering in the air and trees above me. I could feel the wooden railing beneath my arms as I leaned against it.
I heard nothing
Felt nothing
Finally.
The answer.

growing up...

I sat here today thinking that wouldn't it be wonderful to be out on my own? No curfew, no rules, no parents telling me what to do, how to dress, how to live. Nothing to tell me where to go, who I go with and how I do it. Is that really what growing up is about? Not having anyone tell me what to do or how to act. Growing up isn't just the moment when you leave for college and you take your first step out of your dorm to go explore a campus or you get your first apartment. Growing up was all about getting told what to do when to do it and how to do it, growing up is right now and, honestly, I don't believe that it will ever stop. You will never be "grown up" because you can even see it in your parent's eyes, they are still a teenager at heart and they don't know everything there is to being "grown up." yes as time goes on you gain more responsibility and more trust in people, you get married, you have kids, you get a job, you buy your first house and your first car...but when you actually think about it, your whole if is other people telling you what to do, where to be, how to act and how to live your life that you thought you would have to yourself. If you grew up on your own terms where would you be? If you made yourself who you are by yourself what would become of your personality? So next time I sit down and get angry at people telling me what to do, I will remember that those people telling me what to do, how to do it, and when to do it are the same people that are helping me "grow up" whether I agree or not. Life is about choices. Am I going to make the choice to take what has been taught or do I start over my life how I thought I should have been raised? Either way, my life was influenced on decisions and choices of the other people as well, and when I have little ones of my own I will remember how I felt and also remember my choices effect how a person makes their own choices.

Jaymie's story pt. ??

My mind was going mush after looking at the computer screen for hours waiting and watching for him to possibly come online or even to text me. I was doing homework kind of, but not really paying attention to anything other than my own thoughts that drowned out any thinking process needed for schoolwork.
I jumped when my phone buzzed and I quickly looked to see who it was. Natalie was calling. I quickly answered,
"Hey, what's up?"
"Hey, can you meet me by the park. Like, NOW!"
My heart stood still. Any time she was talking about "the park" I knew it had to do with Jake, my ex. My blood began to boil as I was running through scenarios in my mind.
"Why do I need to meet you at the park, is Jake there?" my voice was stern as I got up from the computer and grabbed my keys and wallet that were laying on my bed.
"I'll explain when you get here, just get here." she hung up.
"CRAP!" I yelled as I ran out the door.
"Jaymie!" mom yelled after me, "Where are you going??" she was following me to the car, I didn't stop I just opened my door and got in. Mom got there and knocked on the window. I shoved my keys into the car and  rolled down the window.
"I'll be back 45 minutes tops, I promise." I said turning the key.  My car roared to life and I put the car in drive.
"Where are you going young lady." She grabbed my wheel and glared at me.
"To meet Natalie. Everything is fine, I will be back I promise." I began to roll up the window and she recoiled her hand from the wheel and sat there dumbfounded.  I jolted forward and I was on my way, not caring to look back or to even glance in the rear view mirrors. I pulled out my phone again and dialed Natalie's number. She didn't pick up and I threw my phone on the seat next to me, growling in frustration. I had no idea what I was getting myself into at the moment but I knew this situation had to do with Jake.
    My phone buzzed and I picked it up. Natalie texted me saying "Where r u??" I pressed call and held the phone to my ear. She didn't answer. I was stopped at a stoplight and sent her a text back, "2 min away." She called me and I picked up, "Whats up."
"OK, so don't get mad, let me explain..."
"Are you with Jake?" I asked sternly.
"I knew you would catch on."
"Well, Duh."
"So, he just asked me to come hook up with him at the park." she paused for my reaction. I didn't say anything so she continued, "And I don't know what to do, I told him I'd be there." I heard her voice start to choke up like she was about to cry while on the flip-side,  I was exploding with rage on the inside. I swallowed hard and sighed.
"This is what you are going to do - Are you there right now?"
"Almost."
"Alright, when you get there, do everything as planned, start making out with him or something. Then I will be there soon and when I show up I am going to come to the car and have a little surprise party. Sound good?"
"I'm here. He's here. Holy crap. Jay, I don't think I can do this..."
"Believe me it will be worth it." My fury was bleeding away into just plain adrenaline; my heart was pounding out of my chest.
"He's coming to my car I have to go!" and she was disconnected. The park was just around the corner and I waited by the curb of the street before I slowly turned into the parking lot with my lights off. I went into the parking lot but kept going around to the other side of the park to park my car away from them. I slowly got out after parking and walked over to Natalie's car. There they were, kissing. She seemed so uncomfortable, I saw her look up and I smiled at her with a glint in my eye. I stood with my arms crossed and kicked the door. Jake broke away and stared at me with wide, scared eyes. We just sat there for a few moments. Me glaring, him peeing his pants and Natalie burying her face in her hands.
               I walked away then without a word. I heard someone get out of a car and get into another one. I heard a car start and then speed away. I didn't bother to look back, not to mention I was trying to hold back my laughter. I heard another car start up and I saw Natalie driving over to where my car was parked. I sped up then to get to her while I burst out laughing.