David's Writing

Ineffable

1. Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words.

Sitting back in the car watching the endless road approach the family van and pass by us before vanishing back into infinity behind us. I remember fragments of said family vacations like little notes to myself for when I get older is how I think about it. Little kid me thinks to himself “Hey, this is a great idea for a vacation” or “Wow this is insane, I hope I can remember this when I’m older”.

I remember driving from where we lived in Missouri to all the way out to Colorado, all the way out to Wyoming, all the way out to South Carolina. From sea to shining sea I remember brief memories from all of these different places we have been. I think present me needs to pass notes on to older me before I forget the spark notes of my life.

Dear older me,

The places we’ve been, the places we’ve seen. Do you remember riding in the family van at the time all the way to Colorado? This was the first place you ever skied and you were so excited to try it! Going up and down the bunny hills a million times until you nailed it down to an art. After getting down your pizza and french fry technique (pizza to slow down, french fry to speed up) and then getting to go down a couple green hills and then eventually a blue which was outlandish to you to even try! But, when you put your mind to it, you could do it!

Do you remember Wyoming, the place where buffaloes marched and hot geysers sprayed up from their dormant states? Wyoming was part of a bigger trip than you often don’t remember from the notes you left as a kid, you actually went to several places such as Minnesota to South Dakota then to Wyoming. It was your first and only time dune buggy riding in Minnesota where the hills and dunes of sand where bigger than life. Thinking back I remember younger me thinking that we were just about to fly off the hill straight into the stars. From Minnesota to South Dakota losing some clothes along the way (the carrier on top of the family van flew open and all of our clothes were scattered over I-90 West). Then after losing some clothes and creating a memory along the way you made it to South Dakota where you got to see Mount Rushmore and learn about the history of the men who got to spend their days blowing up rock with TNT as a living! After spending a couple nights in South Dakota we left and went to our final stop at Yellowstone, Wyoming. Along the way we stopped and got to see real life cowboys take on unbelievable feats with their horses and take on bulls with their rope. After all the traveling we stopped at our final destination which was Yellowstone Park. Yellowstone was amazing, your kid self reminds you to take your own kids there some day! From seeing ineffable views such as the geysers erupting before your eyes, to mountain lions eyeing everything below on the ridges of the mountaintop, to stampedes of what seemed to be millions of buffaloes marching their way out of the hills and onto the street below (mostly remembering you being in awe of said buffalo as everyone else was angry about the inconvenience they created). It was amazing, we can leave it at that.

One more adventure I want you to remember older me. Another family trip but this time it was for a wedding. A wedding all the way out in South Carolina, a family trip that brought your whole father’s side of the family together. We all rented a house and made it fit for 15 whole people. Remember having a pool right in your back yard and also being extremely close to the beach. Everyone was having a fun time dancing, singing karaoke, making fools of themselves. Even your grandma was there, Doris, who at the time was beginning to show signs of a battle with Alzheimer’s that taught you the importance of memory. The reason you are sitting at your desk right now writing this to yourself. Older me, I hope you take notes. Not a diary necessarily but just writing stuff down from day to day as a way to keep your memories intact and from fading into the distance like the road on a long, long highway.

Sincerely,

Younger you.

Mellifluous

1. sweet or musical; pleasant to hear

It was a typical Sunday morning as I sat outside and listened to the birds chirp their songs and the gentle breeze of fresh morning air pass on by. I pulled out my notebook and wrote poetry of these simple, yet beautiful things happening around me when my phone rang. Without hesitation I let go of my current thought and beautiful surroundings to go answer the phone for I surely knew who it was. As I went towards the phone the sounds of the morning became drowned out by the uproar of the ringing phone on the wall. When I got to the phone, I paused for a second, made a wish and picked up the phone. At first it was silence then her mellifluous voice came over the line.

“Hello, is this James?” She asked hesitantly to make sure she called back the right number.

“Yes, it is! How is it going Sarah?” I responded with a slight twinge of nervousness to my voice.

“Pretty good, James. You call?” She said sounding more pleasant than ever.

“Yeah, I did.” I said slowly to avoid the upcoming conversation I have spent the entire week dreading and planning out everything I was going to say.

“What’cha need?”

“Okay, here is my chance. It is either make it or break it. You got this, no need to be nervous!” I thought to myself as the silence on the line began to build.

“James?”

“Uhh, yeah. I was wondering if you would… like to go on a date with me to the local diner down the street from us.” I said hesitantly.

Silence.

For a moment I was torn between two dimensions: one where she says yes, we date, become more than friends and see where things go each of us content with not letting this moment slip; the other where she says no and I would always wonder what could’ve came if I waited just a bit longer, tried just a bit harder or just been a bit better.

“Yes.” Her mellifluous voice floods the line, my racing heart is calmed and my destiny is chosen: I for one couldn’t be happier.

aquiver

1. In a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation; trembling; quivering

Drip, drop, drip, drop. The rain falls down the window. As I peer out the window, a storm brews outside. Even with the intensity building I couldn’t help feel a sensation of serenity, peace and calmness with the knowing of what ever happens, happens. I think back to days of yore of simpleness, of ease of mind, of calmness. Back in the days of just going from day to day without caring of the outcome, not searching for more but finding more all the time.

To think of a time of wonder and awe of finding no greater things in the wild as deer and rabbits and just wondering where they all came from. To be fine with sitting on the side of the creek fishing aimlessly for hours with nothing better to do. To be aquiver with excitement as me and my dog wander through the woods and find a new path we’ve never took before.

A strike of lightning brings me out of my daze. I go back to paying attention to the rain and storm around me and get back to work.

Imagine being an ancient human without word, without language to talk to each other. Being madly in love with someone without a way to show your affection. Being sympathetic to someone without being able to say your condolences. Being extremely happy for someone without being able to say you were. Until one day you realize that for all of these things a pulse, a beat inside of you changes. Whenever you are madly in love with someone this internal beat quickens and trembles a bit inside of you. Whenever you are feeling emotions of sadness or sympathy your internal beat slows down into a dull throb. Whenever you are happy you’re internal beat increases in speed and continues with a steady beat. This beat you feel, you wonder if those around you feel it to. You come up with an idea.

One day you sit next to the person you admire so dearly as you are harvesting food. Slightly you start beating your chest to match your heartbeat. The person next to you looks at you confused at first and then slowly comes into recognition of what you are doing. They take their hand and start mimicking their own internal beat. At first you are scared of their tempo which was too slow to display the same affection but soon they quicken their tempo to yours. At this recognition you rejoice and start spreading your beat to other people as well. Soon the whole village is going around and sharing their internal beats to other people and sharing up at points all together to feel this internal beat together.

Imagine years later where this internal beat this internal form of communication evolved. Now to a place where you can share this feeling by incorporating different layers of melodies, of dynamics, of tempos to fully explain what you or what a group of you are feeling. Now a person can listen to your internal beat and know fully what you think and what you feel. If they agree they can be brought closer together at the sound of your internal beat.

Music is what brought us together.

Looking over the water onto the sea, I think of memories that used to be. Memories that seem to be fading day to day like the tide of the ocean. Once in awhile the tide would be close and I would remember everything and others moments where the tide back and hidden in the fogs where I can slightly remember the feeling of long ago. When I realized one day that the tide grew further and further recessed in my mind, I pulled out a book and wrote of my time.

My time as a sailor on the sea where I sailed far and wide delivering supplies and necessities. I remember going from the city to city selling fresh fish, seashells and exports from other towns. The people I met were all nice and always unique in their own ways. What I would do to go back to those days out there on the sea. To smell the fresh breeze off of the salt water, to feel the rays of sun as I worked long and hard to maintain my ship. Alas those days are no more as I sit here and look at the shore.

I still fish every once in awhile. Whenever I get the strength to get up and limp down to the dock. As I got down there I would cast the line and watch the sailors prepare for their voyages across the sea, I wish I could join them. Or even see sailors get back from their expeditions and walk past with out paying any attention to me. Every time I feel slighted that I couldn’t do such as them anymore but then I remember that my time has came and gone. Now I just sit here and fantasize of what used to be as I listen to the song of the sea.