Summer

I know it's months away, but the I have missed the Vinyard in the summers. It used to be one of my summer homes. This summer, I am looking forward to spending a week with the entire family (extended included) on the Vinyard catching rays of sun and watching the sun rise and fall over the ocean. I have missed the carousel, the ice-cream and the casual island feel that only true summer blood can give that sort of wafting breeze. This is the family beach house on the Vinyard. It will be nice to return to sea air and musty books on a quiet tourist free beach. The bike rides are by far the best part. Th ability to explore an island without the necessity of a car...I truly believe I was mean to live in such a place as this.

Leave to see

Finally lifting off, leaving the world behind

I take the window seat so I won't see the sky

One thing On my mind, miles below

Tell me I'm not up here all alone

Did I just leave so you would come to me?

Did I make you up just so I could believe?

A hopeless notion perfect for a dream

Why do I, why do I have to leave to see

Quote from "Boy's Life"

You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town, among magicians. Oh, most everybody else didn’t realize we lived in that web of magic, connected by silver filaments of chance and circumstance. But I knew it all along. When I was twelve years old, the world was my magic lantern, and by its green spirit glow I saw the past, the present and into the future. You probably did too; you just don’t recall it. See, this is my opinion: we all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves.

After you go so far away from it, though, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it. Just seconds of knowing and remembering. When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little heartsad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm.

That’s what I believe.