Map My Digression

Ella, born with blonde in her hair and a strong jaw, takes the bus to school. 

She walks to the bus stop using her swollen feet, and makes her usual comments about the weather to the benches.  They are typically good listeners, or at least they are polite enough to pretend.  Either way, the sky is purple and she misses her mother because of it.

The bus driver is early, so he takes a few moments to make a phone call.  He's probably calling his girlfriend because he is listening to You Make My Dreams by Hall and Oats on the radio and lets the passengers put their feet on the seats.

A few people get on at the stop next to Walmart.  One woman doesn’t have enough change to ride, and a man with cigar lips behind her lends her a handful of change.  She was short a dime because she decided to buy a snickers bar last minute. 

Ella, afraid of everything and wary of small talk, tenses up when he sits next to her.

A couple gets on at the third stop and their legs twist together like licorice.  Ella, who has never held someone’s hand, looks away uneasily.

The man, calling himself Mr. Brown, tells Ella of a secret, “Once it’s on, you won’t want to turn it off.”

No one gets off the bus at the fifth stop.

Ella, raised by strict parents with good standards, eats an apple.

She runs through her list of chores for the day.  Buy milk, take the Christmas decorations down, read the seventh chapter from the Humanities textbook, clean out the fridge, take a nap.  She thinks about calling her mom.  She decides she’ll do it later in the week.

Mr. Brown gives his seat to a pregnant woman who gets on at the next stop.

Ella, who saves $30 from each of her paychecks but he doesn't know what for, coughs.

A family gets on the bus at the stop by the University, and Ella gets off.

And Mr. Brown waves goodbye, and Ella thinks of her term paper, and the pregnant woman puts her purse on the floor and sighs, and the couple with licorice legs have licorice arms too, and Mr. Brown watches and wishes his wife would talk to him more.

And Ella, born with a weak back and blonde in her hair, goes to school.

Goodbai Utah

Sorry for the long post.  If you don't want to read the whole thing, this is the summary:
This summer sucked but also didn't.  I love my friends.  I'm moving to Florida to work at Disney World.  I'm going to keep writing but probably not often.  Goodbye, I love you.

If you're reading this, I am already gone.  My summer ends a little bit earlier than I wanted it to this year.

I'm moving to Florida.

I'm going to work at Disney World.  I'm going to be stuck in a store.  I'm going to be hot and tired.  I'm going to be on my own.  I'm going to be a "real" adult.  I'm going to probably not blog very much.  I'm going to go out and make myself feel uncomfortable so other people don't think I'm depressed.  I'm doing this for myself, because I worry about my sanity.  I'm going because I want to.  And because I don't want to.  And because it's Disney World.  And because it's Florida.  And because someday there will come a time when I can't just pick up and move across the country and I don't want that day to come too soon.

I'm writing this because I'm almost 20 years old and I don't know how to fold a fitted sheet or do my own taxes, and those seem like things I should be able to do on my own by now.

I guess I'll figure it out.

I'm also saying goodbye to the people that I miss most.  Our legacies are written on the floorboards of the attic.  They'll be forgotten in the fire.  We'll be dust in a matter of seconds.  But I love you all.  And if I never see any of you again, thanks for being golden.

This summer was long and dull.  I worked full time.  I saw friends when I could.  I did something horrible.  And I didn't exercise at all.  I made out.  I became a new person, and somehow stayed exactly the same.  I watched a lot of TV.  And I ate a lot of food.

But it had its moments.  When Jonah and I blew all our money doing pointless things and then complained about blowing all our money on pointless things.  When Aubrey and I sat on her roof and watched the entire valley light up.  When Austin held me and told me about how he fell in love with a girl who vanished one day.  When we went to Fong's and didn't talk at all.  When Sarah showed me her movie collection.  When Aubrey and I both got food poisoning and spent a whole weekend in bed because of it.  When Shay and I drank pink milk and talked about preschool and being sorry.

And as the construction workers tear down the Haunted Forest and start building that car dealership, I'm waving goodbye to him and wishing him a great semester, and it just feels so over.

And just like that, the only place we've ever had all to ourselves belongs to someone else.

These days are gone, and they are golden.  They are wrapped in tin foil and packaged nicely in yearbooks and H.A.G.S. and Facebook posts that we thought were oh so clever.  These days are finally finally over.  And I will miss Austin's old man sense of humor and his folk music.  I will miss Aubrey's giant notebook full of songs we wanted to learn.  I will miss Cosette's awkward way of cheering me up.  I will miss the way Lex could figure out your whole deal in five minutes.  I will miss Creative Writing.  I will miss Michael who is now a douche even though I DISCOVERED HIM.  I will miss Griffin Kerr's blog.  I will miss Brynn's blog too.  I will miss that brown couch in Jonah's basement.   I will miss Baylee's awesome fashion sense and sassy comebacks.  I will miss Jeff's girl problems.  I will miss Asher's ease.  I will miss Lauren's conversation.  I will miss playing music.  And writing music.  And I will miss the optimistic, innocent, and ambitious girl I was.

I will miss it all.  Until one day I won't anymore.  

Life is unpredictable.  Even when you have a plane ticket and an appointment.  Even when the email gives you clear instructions on what to do when you arrive.  We are experiments.  We are fearful and blind and passionate.  We are each broken in our own beautiful way, and we are strong because of it.  We are love, and we are war, and we are hunger.  We are children.  And I love you, and all that you think you are or hope to be or will be someday.  Because you are you, and I am me, and we are one.

I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going, but I think I'll be alright.

Don't forget me.