Such a busy day

My roommate and I were busy gals today.

This afternoon, we sauntered off to Walden Pond, where we spent a good long while walking the couple of miles from the commuter rail station out to the pond itself, then posing with Thoreau's statue, sitting on the beach/swimming (I sat, my roommate swam), then getting a taxi to drive us back to the commuter rail because by that point we just weren't feeling quite up to walking the couple of miles back.

I'll post pictures of some of above activities later.

We also spent the evening doing Good Things by heading off to the Boston Temple to clean with other members of our ward. We spent the entire time dusting off the walls of the bottom floor, which included the cafeteria and the baptistry, so really, we got to see a lot of cool places. (And my neck kind of aches a little...) But seriously--it was kind of nice to be able to serve in the temple in a different capacity than normal. And it's actually a remarkably clean structure already; only when we were in areas with pretty strong lighting was I able to see any dust motes at all flying off of my giant dust mop. (Oooh. That sentence was nice & awkward.)

Anyway.

It was a busy day.

Busy, but good.

And I haven't heard back from the temp agency yet. Alas. Maybe tomorrow?

In the meantime, read some drivel I wrote while we were at Walden. (Or not. It is, of course, up to you entirely.)

I can't describe the peace I feel right now. It somehow doesn't matter that there are all these other people around; somehow the sound of their splashing and chatter just seem all a part of the trees rising over the water and the pale smooth motion of the wavelets tapping the shore.

I see in the sand the imprints of human toes and stick drawings, soles of shoes and duck feet, creating of this sandy shore an unpublished record, document of the day's comings and goings.

But then, shores are always about that, the transition between one place and another, from one state of being to the next, the shore itself the place where we leave our footprints as we cross the boundary between.

I think I stand on the shore longer than most people; it's a personal fault of mine, this endless hesitation. For me, the imprints of my feet in the sand are deep, burying even. I can think of numerous times in my life when I've stood there, for years even, in indecision and terror, both of the land I was attempting to leave and the water I was attempting to enter.

It's good to know that, at last, I'm now knee-deep in water, and can look back at the deep grooves my feet have worn in my spot on the shore. It was terrifying to step into the water; it's terrifying to think that things will only get deeper from here, but I must admit that the sandy bottom feels fine between my toes, and the water is cool and clear.

That's it for tonight. I'll try to post pictures tomorrow.