journal 52: silhouettes

IMG_1783the night began innocently enough, one that now resides in my mind as a vague memory that, looking back, is like viewing at a matisse painting. from far away, the picture is clear, but when you get close enough to put your nose up to it, there is nothing but little cacophonous paint splotches, seemingly indistinguishable, meaningless, yet intriguing and will probably give you an impending headache if you stay too long.

the three of us had driven up to the dock with a plan in mind; set golf balls ablaze, then send them sailing into the water below. however, given our haphazard planning and the raging wind that often accompanies late spring, we quickly realized our fun wasn’t going to work out according to plan. i guess that is what happens when you put boys in charge of plans;  you end up watching youtube videos on someone’s dying iphone or you end up at taco bell.

after they’d had their time showing off and blaming the glare of the mood on the water for their bad aim, then doubling over in fits of laughter as i repeatedly missed the ball completely (i’d had one prior experience with golf in 8th grade pe, and given my… ahem, handicap, of being left handed, i’d modified by using a driver backwards, because that is how it felt most comfortable in my hands), we packed up our tees and set off towards the shore. a short-lived night, i’d be in bed by ten.

the two of them walked ahead of me, when an idea struck. “hey i’ll pay you twenty bucks if you jump off the dock!” i called ahead, thinking my words served more as an interjection, and not a directed question. thinking before speaking was never one of my strong suits.

here’s another thing i’ve learned about boys. they’ll do anything you tell them, especially if it lets them flash their man card. the words were hardly out of my mouth before one of them began peeling his clothes off right then and there… an event which was obscured by the abysmal darkness that, thankfully, not only shielded his utter nakedness, but my flushed cheeks, as well.

he sprinted down the dock without abandon, pumping his arms the entire fifty yards of ruddy wood; boards which creaked with every step and causing an orchestration that served as the only indication of his movement as his obscured figure approached the water’s edge. then, suddenly the glare of the moon on the water was interrupted with a splash as he catapulted himself into the water, followed by a gasp and a shriek as he surfaced. a holler of infectious euphoria.

and then it was his accomplice’s turn, and then it was mine.

sopping wet, we ended up at taco bell afterwards.

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