Sketches of Princeton [second]

If you didn't notice, now you'll know
that I'm going to try to do this week-by-week.
I will inevitably fail at some point
(in one respect, I already have, as this
is posted in the middle of my third week).
But I digress.

I found gardens this week. 

Many of them. 

Fellows' gardens, hidden gardens, 

the Garden State. 

There is something so soothing about finding 

a place where things grow. 

It's nice when there is order, 

but there doesn't have to be, 

because I like the wild, overgrown, English variety, too. 

But the organized ones

certainly have a charm

and a realization 

that somebody (somebodies) 

took time 

to plan 

and ponder

and prepare

and plant. 

And for that I am very grateful. 

I found time this week that I hadn't before. 

Some more time to just breathe

and to feel like I had a handle on the readings

and direction about where I want to go 

and who I want to become. 

That time and direction 

were so nice. 

Gifts. 

Like stumbling upon a garden 

I didn't even know existed. 

Grace. 

I ventured outside of Princeton. 

Crossed the Delaware

picked flowers

picked apples

chatted with aunts 

and with friends, old and new. 

There is something absolutely necessary 

in coming outside of the library 

and making your way outside

and finding those friends

who tell you that things will be okay 

and that to vent about readings

or the sheer lack of time 

or any other thing in between, 

large or small. 

Something necessary 

in people coming to find you 

to let you know that they care. 

Something that fills your heart

and leaves you more and better than before.