i made these for you, please enjoy them
thinking about youth, going insane, walking, and my mediocre chai recipe. there is no point to this note, just my love. cover painting: chai composition by manuela gomes.
hello and good morning my friend[s].
i write to you beginning at 9:16 am, sitting in the same chair as last week. This time i am alone[[ everyone else still sleeping. to be honest, i should still be asleep. i woke up twice this morning, firstly at 6:37 [[three minutes before my alarm would go off had it not been the weekend]], secondly at 7:21 [[the exact time my sixth and final alarm would go off, had it not been the weekend]]. i was a bit resistant to the idea of getting up at 7:30 on a day i do not need to. i got up at 9.
this week my thoughts have been occupied with finding peace in doing nothing. as i mentioned in my last letter, i am a nanny for two small boys. watching children exist is so interesting because they do absolutely everything for the sheer pleasure of it. this week, the older child was at a day camp, resulting in spending seven hours with a two-and-a-half-year-old doing two-and-a-half-year-old activities.
so we walked.
we walked to parks, we walked to see the apple tree at the end of their street, we walked to see the community garden. and we walked slow. he asked me what every plant is and i did my best to tell him. we look at tomatoes grow, then go home and eat tomatoes grown by their neighbour[[ who gifted them silently with a head nod that said, i made these for you, please enjoy them. we made friends with an elderly retired couple who have a garden filled with yellow daisies, grown over with ivy, complete with a birdbath{ we frequently see it being used by the animals in the area}. when the older child came back at the end of the day, we went out in their front yard, biking up and down the street, drawing with chalk, and listening for cicadas. as my tanlines grow darker, i become happier. i truly love august.
i go back to school in three weeks. in three weeks, i move into my first apartment with my friend and i begin in-person classes for the first time at this school. part of me wishes i could stay here forever, but the other part of me hopelessly romanticizes what could be. and so my solution is to let time happen and i will come out, eventually, on the other end. but moments like the ones i am experiencing right now i must bask in.
it is now 9:51 am. my dad and one sibling are awake now, busily moving around the kitchen. my sibling overslept and has work in nine minutes. i took a break from writing to wash cherries, to cut a peach in half, to find the best pieces of watermelon. i put them in a container for them to take. can you tell i love doing acts of service? before they leave, we open a jar of pickles they made with the cucumbers my dad grew, for a taste. they are deliciously crunchy, sweet, vinegary, and spicy. my dad is rising croissant dough to bake fresh croissants. he’s making them because he bought some fancy cheese and meat and wants to make fresh ham and cheese croissants. there are four rising, one for each of us [[minus one person, who is vegan]]. the smell of coffee is mixing with the spicy smell from the last sips of my chai.
are you beginning to understand why i want august to last forever?
are you beginning to understand why i said my truest forms of love come in packages shaped like meals?
or did you already know?
i am about to say the most ridiculous connection of words to make a very ridiculous paragraph. last monday i went to the liquor store. i bought two drinks, a grapefruit radler and a citrus gin smash. [[these drinks are important—most likely only to me and you may disregard if you so choose]]. i walked to a park, cigarette in hand and mouth. i set down a blanket in the shade and read sappho, listening to the bugs, the wind blowing through leaves, and the sound of tennis balls hitting rackets in the nearby tennis court. i read the entire if not, winter collection while sitting there. i smoked another cigarette.
i bring this up because there is one poem written that i feel i can connect to my augusts.
i like poems because even though this was most likely written with a lover in mind, i get to read it with my love and youth in mind.
as a result to reading with my love and youth on the front burner of my brain, i have been listening to music that reflects it. i find great comfort in the most beautiful moment in life trilogy by bts. i listen to part 1, part 2, and epilogue: young forever each several times a day. i love repetitive listening because it makes the song[s] sound different over time.
have you ever said a word so many times in a row it no longer sounds like the word?
when i listen to a song over and over, everything meshes together and i can hear the smallest of noises in the back, giving me a whole new song covered in the blanket of familiarity.
while writing this, i have been listening to the first three songs in my liked songs on repeat. [[outro:loveisnotover, lalune, napofastar,outro:loveisnotover, lalune, napofastar,outro:loveisnotover, lalune, napofastar,outro:loveisnotover, lalune, napofastar,outro:loveisnotover, lalune, napofastar,outro:loveisnotover, lalune, napofastar,outro:loveisnotover, lalune, napofastar,outro:loveisnotover, lalune, napofastar,outro:loveisnotover, lalune]]
while reading in the park [[d2 (the entire album), d2 (the entire album), d2 (the entire album), d2 (the entire album), d2 (the entire album)]]
while walking back from the park [[stonedatthenailalon, solarpower, stonedatthenailalon, solarpower, stonedatthenailalon, solarpower, stonedatthenailalon, solarpower, stonedatthenailalon, solarpower]]
blankets of familiarity.
the last three sections i have written have been created thinking about something kim namjoon once said. to summarize, he said that he finds peace in nature, in lakes and ponds and trees, and that these things are “all part of a fight to keep myself from going insane”.
i cant help but consider what do i do that helps my fight?
the biggest difference i have found when it comes to going on walks by myself as opposed to walks with a child, is that i feel guilt going alone, but purpose going with the child. when i go on walks alone, there are often other, “better” things i need to be doing. i am wondering if the lack of guilt i feel at work is because i am At Work.
either way, it is healing and i will learn over time how to take time to myself. we are all learning and growing.
do you know how to take time for yourself?
today is the first day of my nine days off from work. i will rest, go slow. tomorrow i will send this to you on sunday, as i promised. as i reread this, i cant help but notice what a ramble this is. i want to give you some of my brain, if you want it. there will most likely never be a \point/ to what i write.
for now, i will go put on my day clothes [[i realized half an hour ago both my shirt and my sweatpants have toothpaste on them]], some glitter on my face, and perfume on my body.
it is now 10:43 am and i say goodbye. take care of yourself, i love you. listen to your favourite songs until you hear something new. do an activity a two year old would enjoy. be gentle with yourself.
xx delphi
p.s. the croisants were delicious
https://twitter.com/dreamymoonchiid/status/1425444967695126536?s=21 more thoughts on moments of freedom