Dribble Dribble Swoosh Swoosh

8 Dec


The wind whips around the track, howling against the dorm rooms.  My bangs fly in front of my eyes.

I turn Enya up and bury my hands in my pockets.  An old striped hoodie, from something like 10 years ago.  Somehow it’s survived it all.   The cuts and the changes and the purges.

Somehow I’m still wearing it.

I’m operating under the assumption that a 20 minute walk every day is what’s going to change my life.  If not change it, renew it.  When I am lost and sad and stuck in my room, a 20 minute walk is going to make the difference.

And so I go to the Pepperdine track, the only place to walk in Malibu once the sun has set.

And so I walk.

I have a few rules for these walks.  I can’t text or look things up on my phone.

It’s harder than you imagine.  I’m constantly thinking and those thoughts lead to questions and questions lead to the internet.

To stop myself and say “later” is harder than you think.

To stop myself and say “don’t even write it down” is excrutiating.

My right hamstring is tight.  Why is it tight?  I haven’t worked out in a while.  That’s odd.

Now it feels normal.

How did that happen so quickly?

There’s a man dribbling a basketball as he runs around the track. Up down, up down.

The lights from the dorms twinkle on and off.  Some windows are open, revealing twin beds and blank furniture.  Palos Verdes glistens in the distance, like a city made of gold roofs.

The palm trees sway in rhythm.  Swoosh.  Swoosh.

Enya plays.  I resist the urge to look up what language she’s singing in.  That’s part of the deal.

Walks are for no phones. Walks are for me.

I round the corner again.  Deep breath in, release through the nose.

Things are calmer, simpler on the track.  Dribble dribble up down.  Swoosh swoosh.

My problems, once so daunting, have nothing to do with anything.

Dribble dribble swoosh swoosh

The moon is bright, a sliver of opal cheese in the sky.  I’m a child of the moon.  I’ve started to count down the hours until the sun sets, until I can breathe again.  Life is easier late at night.

Some time every day between the hours of 12-5 life seems too big, unmanageable for someone my size.  And then the opal cheese comes out and I remember that it’s going to be OK.

I remember my problems have nothing to do with anything.

Dribble dribble swoosh swoosh

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2 Responses to “Dribble Dribble Swoosh Swoosh”

  1. Christine December 8, 2015 at 11:06 am #

    I really enjoyed reading this. You’re a gifted writer.

  2. jillianlorraine December 8, 2015 at 5:10 pm #

    Thank you!

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