jar & summering comes

I have an adventure jar full of coins on my dresser.

Well, technically it isn’t /full/, but it does have coins. Most are loose change, a few are pennies my boyfriend hid for me, and a quite a good number are parking lot finds.

This is my adventure jar, for when the day a traveling adventure spontaneously takes me along with it. I don’t know how much money is in there: sometimes I sort the coins by type, without counting, when the urge takes me.

The heat of Georgia is starting to sprawl across the sky and earthy ground. Outside, the moon is half-and-half drunk (drinked) silver, like a snapped penny with no bite.  Three planets are strung in a line like silmariljewels on the Night’s neck and hair, and heat fades into dusty black.

I accidentally start a new collection of quarters on the blue square of my bed, when one already existed.

The fan stirs, softly, shyly, as if afraid to disturb the light.  Chink, chink. I mis-sort coins.

People are not simple.  They can crave travel but fiercely miss their home, and while there are a thousand psychological and philosophical reasons why, sometimes they don’t all need answering at once.  Sometimes, they don’t need answers.

Stairs creak, I should sleep, there are birds chirping outside because the rain has yet to come, and dust sputters everywhere.  Lenses snap, the washer opens and closes, and the fan still hums.

Summer is coming to Georgia.  It rolls in on the humid gusts of air that make dry days precious, on the yellow dust and the dusky-spanked blue sky.  It rolls in the with the clouds and a yellow sun that molts into gold every night.  It is crisp without being linear, hot in a way that warms your bones (for better or for worse), and the green starts to shift even as you would guess it withers.

The jar clinks, rattles, and turns to cacophony like a waterfall panics under all those flying microcosms as I refill it.  The lid scrapes, but before I put it on I whiff the glass jar, wincing with pleasure at the strong scent of what I expect: nickel and sorghum.

IMG_20160315_212513509

There is a lot of travel to do, but right now, when I breathe between homework and adulting and bridal showers and fancy hats, the state I’m in isn’t so bad.

I’ve left a dime and a penny on the bed.  I find them separately, and restore them likewise.  The house and the birds outside fall silent as the heat continues to slake.  Today has been counted enough.

Goodnight.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “jar & summering comes

Thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s