Dull Christmas Lights
Today has been the hottest day of this slightly cold summer. I am sitting outstretched from my apartment door, reaching my feet out into the walkway. The slight breeze is much appreciated by me, and probably anyone else who is sitting outside in Moscow Idaho on this sunshiny day. It is too beautiful outside to completely shut myself inside with the AC cranked up high, and my trashy reality TV drowning out my thoughts. Which for the record, that was my original plan for when I got off work, but something hummed in the air as I walked up my apartment stairs that made me feel like spending a moment outside- even if just half of my body. I have had a few neighbors walk by, and in my head, as I heard their footsteps approaching, I wondered if my outstretched legs would trip them. I didn’t move my tripping-hazard legs because the fucked-up-impulsive part of my brain wanted to see if they would actually trip over me. I KNOW that’s awful of me, and it was kind of a fleeting thought, because although I would never want them to get hurt- I was slightly tempted to see if they would wobble their feet over my legs in an attempt to regain their balance. They didn’t. They walked by and smiled, and then it slammed into my head that I am only 5’3”, and my legs were barely out in the walkway. I smiled back because they didn’t trip! And because it’s nice to smile at the neighbors after thinking about what would happen if they had tripped. I think everyone has impulsive thoughts, that move through the mind as quickly as they popped up. After thinking about how terrible I am, and how lovely the neighbors are, I tucked my feet closer to under my body- because I truly wouldn’t want them to get hurt, even though my short legs are easy to dodge. I am new to this apartment building, and it is surrounded by nice flowers, and nice people. It has a great feel, and it’s the cutest apartment I have ever lived in, which isn’t saying a lot because I did live in a trailer with Jesse and Cody for a year(no shade to anyone living in a trailer, ours was just exceptionally trashy, much like ourselves at 18)
My new apartment is brightened by orange walls that stretch along the kitchen area, and the outside is strung with Christmas lights adorning the metal railing. I have yet to see the Christmas lights lit up at night, so I suspect that they are just left-over decorations from the previous winter. My kind of people! No rush in taking down Christmas décor, not from me! I sit and look at the Christmas lights and think how very different things can be in 7(ish) months. Life is fluid, and we move through moments without realizing how far we drift. I think of a year ago- how much better things felt. Or, perhaps, that is the luxury of looking back, we can romanticize the past without being in the sharp details that the present demands. I am working towards a greater appreciation for the place I am in right now. I am looking at my apartments dull Christmas lights, and the greenery of Moscow in the summer, surrounding my windows, and I want to breathe in the beautiful contradiction. It seems out of place to see Christmas lights surrounded by such summer warmth, but some of the best things in life can seem perfectly mismatched. I appreciate moments or ideas that feel separate- but fall together if you take time to notice the balance of details. I look down at my hands and see espresso grounds under my nails, which is a very similar sight to when I have dirt from the garden under my nails. Both espresso grounds and garden dirt produce bouquets of beauty. Coffee and flowers! I received an espresso machine for my birthday this past April, and it may be one of the most used gifts I have ever received. Espresso access 24/7 is dangerous for a gal like me. I vibe on iced americanos, which leads my tiny little espresso machine to be a well-used(loved?) item in my kitchen. My roommate Reilly shares my deep love-respect-need for good coffee. Reilly and I share similar philosophies, which makes living together a breeze. To name a few, we are both big excessive cilantro users, we love discussing a good movie or book, and we both ask the hard-hitting life questions to each other over casual dinner settings- like; what’s your plan after college? Or- do you think Kim Kardashian lets her kids wear Paw Patrol shirts, or just neutral shades of Yeezys?(That one was a Reilly observation, and I laughed for five minutes). We aren’t afraid to go deep in our conversations. Obviously.
The new apartment is a pretty cute place to live, and I must give a shout out to my brother for helping me move. The night before we moved my stuff into my new place, a large storm came through town. We did the best we could to secure my furniture with tarps- but nature laughed in the face of our attempts. It rained and blew boisterous winds all night, and all we could do was sit back and enjoy magic of a good storm. My mattress soaked up most of the rain in Latah County. The next morning my bed was a waterlogged mess that my brother and I attempted to drag up the flight of stairs, to my new place. As we slid it across the floors into my room it looked like a sunken-in-slug had made its way into my living space. The trail of water the mattress left behind really aided in the slug trail vision I was having. Luckily, I had access to a different, dryer mattress. The old mattress got dragged off to the dump, because it simply drank up too much water. It worked out.
I relocated back inside because all my neighbors were getting off work, and the temptation to trip at least one of them was too strong for me (kidding- I got too sweaty and NEEDED the AC). I am sinking into my couch with the comfort of air conditioning cooling down my entire apartment, also I may be sinking because this couch is a broken hide-a-bed. Sinking, none the less. As I end this rambled blog I would like to reiterate to all my readers how very different life can be in a year- so practice a little mindfulness and smooch the people you love (or just tell them you love them because we are in the midst of a global pandemic). Stay healthy!
Libby Anne Groseclose