ninety.three.

Finally sitting at home again. It's been a long time.
But good. It's been grand.
How has your summer been?

After a blissful 6 weeks of camp which I could not begin to cover, I came home [somewhat ambivalent].
Slept in my own bed for one night, then off again to Myrtle Beach for a family reunion.
It began as I think all family reunions do: people that i've never met hugged me and started to assign various features on my face as being passed down from other people i've never met.
I love history in things, things with a story. Like antiques. Something passed down, held on to. So even though it's a little funny, I like hearing about where my face is from, the kind of people who've had my strange toes. I like having a history.
Lots of stories. we heard a lot of stories at the family reunion. sometimes i can get so caught up in myself, in the day-to-day that i forget to realize other stories. another day-to-day. when i remember that, it just makes things so much more interesting. lots of great stories and observations about a family, about love and acceptance and living together and fighting together.

while down there, my great-grandparents [who got married when she was 16 and he 17] renewed their vows on the beach. 60 years of marriage and he can't stop telling her how pretty she looks and she can't stop picking up after him and bringing him whatever he needs. it's an amazing legacy.

leaving Myrtle Beach we stopped off to visit some other family in Tennessee. Went to bed late and woke up at 6 to go for a 12 mile bike ride in the mountains. You would not believe how lovely that was. Really and truly.

10 or 11 hours later we found ourselves back home.
It might be nice to settle back into the swing of things. We have one more vacation up to Michigan and then routine happens again.

Some things have changed.
I'm 21.
Not really feeling 21. I always thought 21 was old, that by 21 I'd have everything figured out.
I don't feel that way at all. But it's ok. I feel good feeling 11 at 21.
Some things stay the same.
I still am fighting a nail-biting habit.
And still conquering the i-should-work-out battle.
I don't feel much different.
Always just little shifts, you know? Little things move and alter me and i hardly notice along the way. Then I look back and i feel much different than a year ago but no different than yesterday.

I'm reading "An American Childhood" by Annie Dillard and can't even tell you how much I like it. Excellent read. I feel more alive at every chapter, at every uncanny anecdote.

The fellow isn't coming home for another long while, something like 70 days? More like 60 now, I suppose. It's rough. I know time will fly, even though 10 days has felt like 100. He'll be home in no time and I'll be able to stop thinking of sappy parting song lyrics to fill my time [sad but true].

Later than I thought. Must be off to bed.