LingerLore

A eulogy to time wasted in wonder.

Sunrise, sunset.

Robert Frost’s melancholy snark has built to a chorus in my head as I charge into my last term here at the Que:

"I can sum up everything I have learned about life in three words: it goes on," & that’s the best & worst of it.

I want to play back my summer the way you do when you realize you’re too close to the end of your favorite movie & you’re not ready to snap out of it yet. Rewind the tape, flip back to that earmarked beginning-of-the-best page, sink back into the story without worries about ending.

There are so many people here that I’ve just begun to know, pinching conversations into the cracks between teaching canoe rescues & patching campers’ skinned knees, & here I am hugging those t-shirted opportunities goodbye. Watching one laundry-stuffed Camry after another drive down the gravel & back to their button-down lives, I can hardly believe how good this space (in time & place & people) has been. Camp has become so fully my world, & I’m almost dizzy remembering the hugeness of that world that I (& all of us) have to go back to. I want more of this—more time to grow in this Narnia air.

But it goes on, & this swatch of life gets folded safely into eternity. It can’t be spoiled now.

Day is done/ Gone the sun/ From the lake, from the hills from the sky/ All is well/ Safely rest/ God is nigh.

Thanks & praise/ For our days/ Neath the sun, neath the moon, neath the stars/ As we go/ This we know/ God is nigh.