i have a hunch that i left my beautiful gray, flowered pencil pouch out on the kickball field, last week. when my house played kickball against another house for lawn-naming rights. i had biked out to Cutter-Ziskind to pack brunch into my backpack and then on my bike, i raced down the hill, the one that takes me straight to the sports fields. on any decline, my bike can fly. i felt like flying, flying, flying until my bike lock fell off loudly behind me. It’s okie. Was worth.
when i walked to the field, my housemates were warming up, waving to me. i found a spot on the bench to sit down and pull my brunch from my backpack. Eating and smiling and cold.
the kickball game began. allison and i applauded and screamed. she rested her notepad on her lap, meaning to study but i knew we'd only have eyes for the game.
"H-W Lawn" has always been the hope. we lost by a point. we lent the opposing team our best players because they didn’t have enough. Haha, again. It’s okay. The grass was green and the sky was sunny and my nose was chilly and the view of smith, beautiful.
So we technically won by default. i had so much fun cheering on the sidelines. enjoying my egg quiche and the company. ^-^
if not the kickball field, then the pouch is in josten library, in that study room full of old, rare books behind glass bookshelves. i remember opening the door and almost yelped when i saw the shape of a person studying in such dim lighting. it was Loren, an acquaintance that always said hi back. the kind of person i know deep down i could vibe with had we had more encounters.
it's the room with a keyboard you can play with headsets on. I played some of my favorite songs while Loren studied. after i finished, we conversed about international politics, wine and parties, and rap. two girls who enjoyed boardgames and watching kpop dancing videos. that one UMass frat party I walked in on. We listened to August D’s Daechwita and bopped along. laughed about the silly and the serious. before I left, we promised we'd meet again.
if the pouch was not at josten, then it might have fallen out at the boat house. i had biked there immediately after leaving the library to meet with Naina. we made last minute plans to kayak haha. i got there first, sat down on the steps as i waited, enjoyed the view of the pond, the trees, the scattered yellow and red leaves on the ever-shifting pond surface. it was chilly. i dug my heels into the concrete steps. not too long, i heard foot steps behind me.
maybe it's from walking with her lots but i knew those steps were hers.
Naina and i went into the boathouse. it was my first time. god. that boat house felt and smelled…? like a movie. the strong smell of wet wood and earth. wooden desks. wood everything. a life vest was fitted on us both before we each got our own kayaks and were pushed into the water.
everything feels different when i was in the water. the paddling. the calm. the conversation. the way the surface of the water moved and shined under the sun and with the wind. if i had anything to say, it was an observation.
"beautiful."
"gosh."
"woah! haha"
"i can't breathe"
Naina looked so cute paddling pft. sometimes she would struggle to push herself forward or her kayak was stuck on a log hahaha and i keep saying this and it's so weird but she's the cutest daughter. if i had a daughter like her, i would be blessed. forever. our paddling wasn't synchronous but the sight of her silhouette against the shine of the water and the trees was absolutely gorgeous. i wonder what i'd see if i was paddling behind myself. how do i look?
all in a sunday. all these beautiful, peaceful feelings i felt. somewhere in me, somewhere deep, i felt warm. warm from how such a normal sunday could already feel so extraordinary because of the people in it. the nature in it. the flight i felt in my heart.
i was making memories that i'd remember for the rest of my life. as I write this, I can still see it all.
i used to be the kid who stayed in, studying hard for that extra letter grade. who based her self-worth on her academic performance and achievement.
it was my everything. it was me. and i allowed it to be.
however, that meant i left a lot of life behind.
fomo.
fear of missing out. my beautiful friend Elise first introduced this to me in our penpal letters. i realized then how that was everything. everything i had feared. perfectly condensed.
i feared i had lost. had i lost years? lost it to nothing at all. nothing i'd remember or recall. downing and memorizing and swallowing information i'd barely touch. for the sake of recognition. someone else's. not mine.
it's as if i could only be real if someone else noticed me and my efforts. not that i did. i lived for others. and i loved it. i hated it. i thrived and i burned and i was quiet. never voicing it. crying only in the middle of the night as i stared down my computer screen. another essay to conquer. another concept to master.
i never did much. not for fun.
Like The Band Perry's song "If I Die Young" -- "all i never did is done."
on a night out to a jazz concert with someone i really like (this was a month ago) i was epically excited about funnel cakes, having never had them before. on our way back from getting a plate, as we sought a place to eat it, he asked me, "do you ever have fomo? is this fomo for you?"
it was painful to admit it. the funnel cake plate was warm in my hands as we walked. his eyes, earnest.
"yes. god, yes i do. but im here tonight aren't i? im in the exact place my parents would never have allowed me to go, with the exact person they'd never want me to be with at night: a boy. haha."
we ate the cake together, fingers and all. amazing music floating through the chilly air. the highway beneath us. i felt safe. flying. like a bike in decline. i felt easy.
so where was the damn pencil pouch? it wasn't in any of these places.
two days had passed after that sunday. i dug around my backpack for an umbrella and there it was.
with me all along. it was with me everywhere. this trusty pencil pouch.
not lost.
i didn't lose it after all.
i hope you'll find what you've felt you've lost. and if you don't, that you can create it :)
yes.
best,
Ngoc
P.S. haha. cheesy.
i am a cheese about my own life.
am i perfectly happy? definitely not! i just... i've come to learn where i like putting in my time.
we got this heh ^-^
