A Painting Awaiting Completion

As I write this, I'm on the wooden bench in my backyard, waiting for the sun to rise. Lit citronella candles are all around me; I'm wearing comfortable pajamas and draped in a blanket, sipping from a steaming cup of strong coffee.
This is one of those moments when all the world seems to be put on hold: no worries, no problems -- I'm almost tempted to hum 'Hakuna Matata' -- and life actually takes on a feeling of peace. It's a painting awaiting completion, however; the icing on the cake would be having someone to share it with (remember that weekend?) -- but! -- this is one of those moments where I can smile and whisper to the stillness of dawn, "Life is good," and all is well. And even if it isn't, it will be some time soon.

A few songs that come to mind, that this moment really deserves:

"Come Away With Me" -- Norah Jones
Come away with me in the night
Come away with me
And I will write you a song

Come away with me on a bus
Come away with me where they can't tempt us
With their lies

And I want to walk with you
On a cloudy day
In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high
So won't you try to come?

Come away with me and we'll kiss
On a mountaintop
Come away with me
And I'll never stop loving you

And I want to wake up with the rain
Falling on a tin roof
While I'm safe there in your arms
So all I ask is for you
To come away with me in the night
Come away with me

"Dogs" -- Damien Rice
She lives with an orange tree
The girl that does yoga
She picks the dead ones from the ground
When we come over

And she gives
I get
Without giving anything to me

Like a morning sun
Like a morning
Like a morning sun
Good good morning sun
The girl that does yoga
When we come over
Girl that does yoga

He lives in a little house
On the side of a little hill
Picks the litter from the ground
Litter little brother spills

He gives
I get
Without giving anything to me

And the dogs they run
And the dogs they
And the dogs they run
In the good good morning sun

Side of a little hill
Litter little brother spills
Side of a little hill

Oh and she's always dressed in white
She's like an angel, man
She burns my eyes
Oh, and she turns
She pulls a smile
We drive her round
And she drives us wild
Oh and she moves like a little girl
I become a child, man
She moves my world
And she gets splashed in rain
And turns away
And leaves me standing

She lives with an orange tree
The girl that does yoga
Got a wolf to keep her warm
When he comes over

She gives
He gets
Without giving anything to see

And the day it ends
And the day it
And the day it ends
And there's no need for me

The girl that does yoga
When we come over
The girl that does yoga

"You Belong To Me" -- Jason Wade
See the pyramids around the Nile
Watch the sunrise from the tropic isle
Just remember darling, all the while
You belong to me

See the marketplace in old Algiers
Send me photographs and souvenirs
Just remember when a dream appears
You belong to me

And I'll be so alone without you
Maybe you'll be lonesome too

Fly the ocean in a silver plane
See the jungle when it's wet with rain
Just remember till you're home again
You belong to me

Oh I'll be so alone without you
Maybe you'll be lonesome too

Fly the ocean in a silver plane
See the jungle when it's wet with rain
Just remember till you're home again
You belong to me

"Something Fine" -- Jackson Browne
The papers lie there helplessly
In a pile outside the door
I've tried and tried, but I just cant remember what they're for
The world outside is tugging like a beggar at my sleeve
Oh, that's much too old a story to believe

And you know that it's taken its share of me
Even though you take such good care of me
Now you say Morocco and that makes me smile
I haven't seen Morocco in a long, long while
The dreams are rolling down across the places in my mind
And I've just had a taste of something fine

The future hides and the past just slides
England lies between
Floating in a silver mist so cold and so clean
California's shaking like an angry child will
Who has asked for love and is unanswered still

And you know that I'm looking back carefully
'Cause I know that there's still something there for me
But you said Morocco and you made me smile
And it hasn't been that easy for a long, long while
And looking back into your eyes I saw them really shine
Giving me a taste of something fine
Something fine

Now if you see Morocco I know you'll go in style
I may not see Morocco for a little while
But while you're there I was hoping you might keep it in your mind
To save me just a taste of something fine.




P.S.: I hope you find moments like this. I really do. And I hope you'll realize how precious they are. I hope you'll enjoy them like I have, and I hope you know what it would mean to me that you are happy.

I don't know what to say about all of this.
February already seems like it was ages ago -- in terms of school, at least. I graduated last Thursday, and visited Whitestone Academy yesterday to hang out with my Creative Writing teacher for a bit (he awarded me at graduation for being at the top of my class, by the way), and when I saw a couple of my fellow graduates at the school, I felt as if I'd known them my whole life. But I've really only known them since February. And I only started really talking to a lot of them at prom.
It's just that these people are all I really have to remember high school by. These past four years are over. And it's just starting to sink in.
I don't like it. I should have had better times while I was still in high school.