Yesterday I decided to walk from my dad's house to the Lake,
even though it was cold and windy. I wore a red sweater I found in
my closet that I haven't worn since I left for college four years
ago.
I think there should be a different word for the Great Lakes, they're
too, well, great to be described as lakes. You feel like you're staring
across a tiny ocean. If I didn't know any better, I would think Lake Michigan
was a strangely calm sea. I would think I was sitting at the edge of the World,
not the edge of Illinois.
The Lake sits a lot higher than it did when I was a kid, a product
of climate change that elicits growing discomfort within me whenever I visit.
The waves broke high agains the ridges of the Ledge, creating strange paterns in the air
before they fell. I thought about other times I'd visited the Lake throughout my life.
I thought about the people I love, and the parts of the future I am afraid of.
It's corny and a little pathetic to admit this, but there's something to be said about experiencing a moment completely,
without music or a podcast in the background. You feel really anxious when you start doing that, but then you feel better
over time. I've decided that my current goal in life is to just try to actually experience it as much
as possible, no distractions. We'll see how I do.