i woke up with my feet wet in the bottom of my sleeping bag. Just like you said they would be.
you were always right.
i'd wanted to camp close to the lake so i could watch the sun rise over the water. i always imagined it would be the most beautiful thing in the world. to see the water change colour with the rays of the sun, reflecting the sky as the world started to sing its good mornings.
you told me i'd get wet. that the water seemed to seep up the banks over night and that i'd be flooded. you said it with such... aargh, you had to have an answer for everything, didn't you? i was never allowed to wonder, to imagine, you always told me things so matter of factly. the ideas i had would never work, you said, and here are the scientific, mathematic, historic and environmental reasons why.
couldn't you just let me try?
so here i am, in the place you told me never to camp, to say goodbye to you. and thinking about you now makes me so angry, instead of crying my 'goodbyes' and 'i miss you's', i feel like screaming to you to fuck off.
you were right. the water does rise. but the sight before me seems to have dampened my anger, just like the lake has dampened my toes.
i was right too.
seeing the sun rise from behind the trees, scattering the birds into the morning sky and playing its brightness over the lake, i can tell you now that this is the most beautiful thing in the world.
and i can say goodbye.
