Dust in the Night, Dust in the Sun

“But, Emma, will you remember being here with me, looking at the sailboats against the blue? Will you remember when you’re older?”

“I’ll try.”


I’m home now. I’ve changed out of Isabelle’s gym clothes, called my mother, settled down to write. My journey has once again transformed. I have not reached or passed a landmark, but have rather experienced a gentle change of scene on this great twisting highway – life. Because, Kaj, highways are rarely straight – and often interesting or beautiful. Of course, no two highways can be the same, and mine shall run wherever I desire. We may not be able to control traffic, but we can control, from our point of view, where we choose to travel. Of course, whether we control or choose anything remains to be seen – and hopefully will for a long time to come. Now, however, while my journey changes unexpectedly (and woe betide he who does not experience unexpected change), it is my part to look back at where I have come.

I’m warning you. This will be a long post.


Something happened last year. Something happened on the first day of high school. Something fell into place. I fell into place.

I always wanted to have a place. I speak not of a set, determined position in society or among a group of friends. I speak not of a certain character, a role I am expected to fill. I never wanted a defined role. I have never been an actor.

On the other hand, perhaps I did want a determined position. I was searching, if you like, for a determined place where I could be as undetermined as I liked. I would not limit myself to a niche, but I suppose I did want to be more…me. I am no more difficult to understand than most people – in fact, I am probably less so – but I never did really know myself. Do I know myself now? A little better. If knowing oneself means to feel more like a person and less like a ghost, then yes.

I refer not to quiescence versus a more talkative nature. I have hardly become louder. In some ways I have retreated considerably – I imagine that this is because the people I hang with at school now are far, far louder than I was used to. I wonder whether this retreat allows me to better reflect and understand this very confusing Me.

At the same time, however, I have become bolder. Bolder outside of a close-knit group of people. I will speak to others at school with no problem. I can talk to strangers – something I was never good at. Unfortunately, I have not improved concerning one-on-one situations. I find very few people easy to talk to when no one else is around, and I realize that I make for very awkward conversation with most.

Yet all this acquiring of ability is since RWA. In elementary school, I was shy. I was louder than I am now, but I was also shyer. I could not have been luckier to meet Jenna.

I have always felt perfectly at ease with Jenna. I find I can tell her anything, but I often don’t need to, because we truly understand each other. We also augment each other when there are other people around…it’s difficult to explain. She finishes my thoughts. Stop blushing Jenna. You know you’re wonderful.

Of course, I never felt any need to venture outside of our little line segment (with whoever else concerned, such as Preyanka or Rachelle…our little trios, such fun). And this is why I was difficult with strangers. And this is why I seemed louder but was shyer. And this is why, although it was terrible, splitting up for high school might have been a good thing for both of us.

Forced on and from day one to suddenly become outgoing and interesting, I was actually not surprised to make friends. I was, however, surprised that I managed to find such good ones. I know the oftener I say it the less meaningful it might sound, but you guys know you’re wonderful too. I could not ask for more supportive, more understanding, more interesting people, and the way you both talk and listen to me is amazing. More decent people than my friends could not be found.

So here I stand. Here I have come. Surrounded by people who care about me and who I care about, in school, at home, and in Russia with my fellow cacti. These past two years I have matured more than ever before. (There was loads of room for improvement. There still is.) And I am different. Different all the way through. I stand taller, I smile at the wind. I see through to the depths of the ocean rather than skimming along the surface.

I have discovered beauty.


I promised myself, once, that I would always remember who I had been, and that I would never become someone I didn’t want to be. I shouldn’t have worried. I think I predicted that a change in character would cause me to become shallow, cause me to lose my memory and my insight – but if I have any worthwhile insight today, it’s more than I did before.

So ends another year of school. I have despairingly few left, and I frankly don’t know what I’ll do when it’s over. Not because I love school, but because I seriously don’t look forward to having any purpose in my life, and also because I couldn’t bear to lose any friends. You are all so dear to me. And shadows stretch across the ground, and the sun sets in a million shades of glow

and the world turns.


Now, I realize that to go on about all the amazing stuff that’s been happening these past couple of days could possibly cause you to become suicidal, and I really don’t want to inspire anyone to kill themselves just because my posts are too long. I’ll write tomorrow, because I’m sure tomorrow will be less amazing.

Or I might write later tonight. Knowing me. Which I can almost say I do.

A million drafts, a million papers floating in the wind. There and then one drifts down to rest upon the banks of the river Inspiration. Where and when, waking from a deep slumber to Realization, and the sun shines down beautiful and gold.