Aug 19, 2009

three straws

On Monday Paul and I went to Rachel's. Despite the hot jazzy weather, we had a really good time together, reuniting as a trio since that beautiful day after our Writer's Craft exam. Paul and I both agree that that day, Day 1, set the bars so high for the summer of 2009. None of us asked what we wanted to do next, what time it was, nor what was going on later that evening. I savored that. I appreciate that. With this, we headed to Rachel's appropriately refrigerated home for another enjoyable day together. We started by intently observing Rachel's room. I seriously cannot get enough of it. There's always something new about it every time I visit, but there's always something that is so the same, as well. I wonder if Rachel has gotten too comfortable, or if she experiences something like Paul and I each and every entrance. It's another world of its own, some sort of parallel universe, where everything, honestly, is okay. It deserves a Capital.

We went to the park soon after touching the spines of her novels, laying and hydrating ourselves. We took the guitar and a blanket and set up shop in the shade. We passed around the herbs a little bit during Paul's serenading of the crowd; each other, and the three "crazy kids," whose house is adjacent to our summer getaway. They were playing out in their backyard basketball court, climbing the net, taking off their shirts to get a tan, or because they're just too hot with their Wal Mart, cotton tees on.

Don't you remember what it's like to be like that?
Yeah. It feels like yesterday.

Because Rachel didn't want to accompany us in the event of a Grounders game, nor one of Tag, Paul and I swung on the swings a little, boiling, baking. We discussed the future. We invented a game too, an alphabet one, that can only be played at this specific park for specific reasons.

Webster. Seventy. Quotient. Mundy. Titanic. Tower of Power.

Later on we decided to make use of Rachel's pool by inserting our tanned selves into it. It's the warmest that her pool has ever been, in my opinion, from my experience. The temperature resembled wet air. Glue.

My arms feel like jello in this pool.
What flavour?
I was thinking blueberry.

We concocted a whirlpool. Paul noted that every time he has made one in this pool, they make it go counter clockwise, where I always go clockwise. He also told me that he always opens his eyes underwater, where I do not. We may not participate in the same summer activities, or have the same taste in jello, but I feel like we are very similar people, Paul and I. He is one of my first, closest guy friends since I was about 8 or so. Thanks for getting along, Paul-E! You are a wise one.

Rays and rays of sun. Deep blue pool liner. Bumpy ground. Rachel in her purple wrap, sitting up on the newly constructed, wood patio by the newly inputted door.

How is the reading going up there?
I haven't read out here in a while. I forgot how much I liked it out here.

I found myself recollecting memories throughout the day. "Remember when," and the sort. Don't get me wrong, I'm not living in the past in these beautiful backyards. It's not like 2, 3 summers ago were the good old times either. These, right now, are the ones. These ones with the knock off Birkenstocks, towels around your neck. The ones in the shade, walking, looking around.

We're making tuna.

We helped Rachel in the kitchen with dinner, tuna melts with tomato slices, and a bowl of fruit with our smoothies. Waters in clear glasses with cubes of ice, slices of lemon, lime and orange. Straw 1, straw 2, and straw 3. Diamond paper towels for napkins. Sitting in slippery wooden chairs. Digesting to Intervention. Crackers. Washing our hands, washing these dishes, drying this cutting board before washing it two times.

In the pool, we decided that we wanted to go somewhere different. I suggested downtown Burlington, but I agreed with Paul when he said that we've been there a lot recently, and he'd like to try something new. Let's go somewhere fun. I suggested Hamilton, perhaps Oakville, or one of my favourite views in the city of Burlington. We didn't visit this place though, but I am glad because I'd like to save this for a picnic with Rachel since she's never been, but would like to.

What a life. ~Kelly Bailey

After changing and enjoying Paul's perfectly sparce amount of Axe application, we decided to allow Paul to show us his old house just into Oakville.

Memories to the power of twenty?
Does it look different?
Yes. And my mom planted those ...and this is the park that we always used to go to. It was wood, but it's plastic now.

At Hopedale, Paul asked the verdict. Left or straight. Sttrrraight. To Downtown.

We parked just south of Lakeshore near Robinson Street, near Crack Pot Studio. My grade 11 co-op placement, one of my three jobs in the summer of 2008, a place that I know and love and would like to visit every so often to say hello to Wilma.

It was very surreal approaching the studio. I can now say for sure that this downtown area was an area that I took for granted. I arrived in the summer every day around 9 straight from the bus, worked until 5, and then took the bus home immediately. I never really decided to allow myself to browse the strip and the square and the trees, the lake. I wish I had, but what's done is indeed done, but the revisiting was good, and good for me. Healthy. Closure.

We browsed the candy store and observed all the Scottish candies, breads and frozen meats (Scotch Pies, haggis, the usual), as well as further down the Lakeshore. (Note: "the" Lakeshore. Darcy Maude, who used to work at Crack Pot, always called it "the" Lakeshore. I admired this). I noticed that an extremely delicious sandwich place has been transformed into something not as starchy, and that the restaurant and deli called Thyme has vanished. I loved going in there. So modern. So full of pasta and egg salad for the taking.

We went down towards the lake afterwards, sitting on a hill, noting the couples kissing, the Europeans discussing.

There's so many languages here.

The sky was a blue gray. The sky, was a blue purple gray.

We walked down to the lighthouse and saw that a group of kids, presumably a couple years older than the three of us, repeatedly jumping into the lake.

How's the water, boys?
F--fucking cold.

I sat at the edge of the pier for a little. Ready to go?

The conversation on the route back to the car was hilarious. Rachel almost decided to tell us what she was thinking. She gave us a hint though. It was some sort of erotic screenplay.

Have you ever burned a letter?

The three of us made it to Corner Gas, who was resting and waiting for our arrival contently. Paul threw on some jazz as we drove West down Lakeshore back to Burlington. He noted that we arrived too early, because the party was just getting started. He also noted that it's going to be so nice just to go out and get beers when we're legal.

It's so soon for you guys. I'm seventeen. Playful chuckle.

Driving by House of Wings, Paul and I share an interest in going there for lunch one day. We later decide that Thursday will work. There's allegedly about 70 or 80 flavours, his being My Girl.

We go to Erik's for a slice of pizza, a bite of a Mr. Big bar, and the greeting of his new puppy Taz. Brittney and Greg join us too. We watch the majority of Role Models. Paul asked if I was ready to leave, I said yeah. He said he could see where the movie was going, although I would've liked to see the ending. Do not fret, though. I am breathing.

Hand shake. Keep in touch. Good night.

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