Below is a digital copy of a weird little zine I made in celebration of my 41st birthday that I mailed out to a few family and friends. It also so happens to be a great way for me to kick off my newsletter, this newsletter, the one you’re reading right now. I’m calling it “Been There” and it’s basically a sneak peak into my journal of random thoughts and reflections on life, nature, dogs and curiosity. (Along with some doodles and illustrations.) Like me, this newsletter is a work in progress, but I hope it’s interesting enough for you to stick around awhile.
PS: If you would like a physical copy of this zine in its original paper format, I’d love to send you one. Just ask!! I don’t have an unlimited number of copies, but they are free. If you like what you read here today, please consider sharing it with someone, because life is more fun that way.
Alright. On to the good stuff.
Been There.
A quirky zine introducing myself to myself on my 41st birthday.
The Water’s Edge
Along the water‘s edge
I take a much needed break.
My cheeks on fire against the heavy summer air
The water sparkles coolly in resistance.
Nearby a group of teenage girls
clad in bikinis bare their skin.
Showing off curves decorated
with depths of pink, brown, and black.
They scream with delight
hurling their bodies off the breaker wall
into the cold crystal skin of Lake Michigan.
The crisp water easily gives into their weight
And consumes them one after another.
Their voices falling like raindrops stopped.
Silence for a moment before they emerge.
Hands, then arms.
Head, then legs.
Voices.
They clamor against each other,
slippery and shivering onto shore.
Scream, splash, silence.
Watching them becomes rhythmic like waves
over and over again.
Their laugh I feel in my throat.
Throwing me back to how the sun and water
felt against my own tender skin.
All those summer years before spent swimming
through a muffled underwater world
whose resistance was no match to my muscle.
Back on land, a man saunters
towards us legs wide and shoulders stacked
high like bricks.
He moves in a wide zigzag on the pier.
Knowing this kingdom was built for him.
Brows tight with scowl his eyes narrow
in their direction the girls
begin to slow and without looking
stiffen their ears toward the invader
like deer frozen in a field.
The lesson is unspoken, but clear.
Your voice, I hear it.
Your body, I see it.
This space is mine, now leave it.
One by one the girls buckle planting their butts
firmly on the cement. Spines curved towards
each other in a huddle.
Their mouths barely whisper.
A toothy smirk spreads across his face
making the air turn stale around us.
Without warning my 14 year old self rising
like a title wave. Screams.
Shedding her clothes as she runs
barefoot and defiant
towards the water's edge and jumps.
High, then round
hitting the water with a splash.
Then silence.
Bubbles cascading around my skin
carry me up.
At the surface I see his mouth
agape and dripping wet.
Shoulders sunk and hunched.
Like punctuation I kick
hard against the still restless surface
as the girls’ laughs dance like water droplets
across the sunlit sky.
Our reflections rippled into focus
we yell
you may have built this wall
but the water will always
belong to us.
Two things I think about almost every day.
It’s Us.
Our Family. You, me, Phoebe (she’s new), Rhubie and the hummingbird who’s built a nest in our tree.
Well that’s it for now. Thanks for reading!
Most of the things I would tell my younger self would revolve around letting go of what other people think! Thanks for the reminder to reflect on how far we’ve grown! <3
Your writing creates vivid imagery in my mind. I love the “Two things you think about almost every day.”