Thursday, June 21, 2007

Beware of the Red Jellyfish

Growing up, my family and I used to take yearly trips down to the beach in North Carolina. We would all pack into the car, boogie boards strapped to the top, and make the six or seven hour drive down to the shore. One year, there was a huge storm the week before we got there and all these jellyfish had been washed to edge of the ocean. The waves were literally speckled with white. But my sister and I were determined to go swimming since we had traveled all this way. So we blew up two rafts and set out into the jellyfish-infested waters. At first it seemed like a good idea. We both kept our feet in the water and our rafts tied firmly together. Then we started drifting out. A huge, red jellyfish swam up to our rafts. My sister abruptly told me she was leaving, untied our rafts, and quickly stepped out of the waters. I remember drifting there, thinking: I can't follow her. I've got to stay out here on my own. But I was terrified and had lost sight of the red jellyfish. Not even a minute later I grabbed my raft and ran back to the shore to join her.

This past weekend, I traveled up to Philadelphia with my mom and dad to see my sister and my brother and his family. We spent the weekend hanging out with my new nephew while my dad replaced a floorboard in my brother's house and helped my sister in remodeling her back patio and kitchen. He got right to work when we got there and was up early on Sunday morning to start fixing things before we had a casual Father's Day brunch. After my parents left on Sunday my sister thoughtfully went to a Bikram Yoga class with me for the first time to see what I liked so much about that hot room. In the downtown Philadelphia studio there are hardwood floors and a huge painted brick wall at the back.

My sister took off of work on Monday and we drove out to the Jersey Shore to hang out on the beach. On the way out we talked about my recent break-up and how hard it can be. How you never really know why something fits and something else doesn't, but that if you don't listen to your instincts you could end up in the wrong situation. My sister and I are very different people, and growing up we both struggled to get to know one another. As adults we can talk about almost anything and I know that whatever decision I make she will support it. We talked about how even though I know my mom meant well, when she asked if I would ever get back together with him it really hurt. I abruptly told her: no.

We got some food at the local Wawa and set off for the beach mid-morning. My sister had to go find our permit tags so that we could stay on the beach while I sat and watched our stuff. Really, it was her taking care of me. It was one of those cool days where if you sit in the shade you almost feel like it might be fall. The water was too cold to swim in, but we just relaxed and read and napped on the beach. It was exactly what I needed...

I took the bus from Philadelphia to D.C. It was crowded for a noon on Wednesday bus ride and even though I selfishly tried hard to sit alone, someone sat next to me at the last minute. There was a baby crying the whole time and I was reminded of why I hate to be around lots of people. Things felt congested and closing in on me. All I wanted was to get off of that bus and out into the hot streets of D.C.

I'm here in D.C. until early Tuesday morning when I head off to Louisville, Kentucky to visit my friends from Boston. Hopefully we'll make a trip to Nashville and then it's off to the mountains of North Carolina to visit my college roommate and her husband. I hope it includes burritos at Black Cat and pool at Murphy's. I hope it rains and then clears up into a cool, open night where the mountains open up and wrap their arms around you. I hope that it feels the same way it did when I lived there: like home.

2 comments:

Heather said...

so glad you're traveling and seeing people you care about, enjoying familiar scenery, taking time to think and write, and enjoying a break from charlottesville. look forward to reading more.

oh, and i love the jellyfish story. reminds me of old beach trips with my younger sisters too :-)

Rachel said...

did I really leave you there? sounds like something I would have done....then. :)