Home > Work > Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir
21 " Spirit dancing, I envisioned a place inside this energetic city, ours: a classic townhouse on a steep street with expansive views of the Pacific, the magenta siding sun-faded—a third-story perch, thick platinum haze embracing our new home. "
― Aspen Matis , Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir
22 " He assured me that greater structure would benefit my energetic soul. "
23 " We walked back to his revived house in tender silence, the dry gold land freckled with young pines and red flowers. "
24 " But in creative fields, a degree is a prerequisite for nothing. "
25 " College had always felt more like an anchor than a kite, a tedious and time-eating entrapment. Studying for pointless tests stole away nights, rote memorization disappearing the freedom of creation. "
26 " Newly married, Justin and I evacuated the woods where we had once lived as nomads. We would no longer pass sweet breezy days in our sleek tent, in mossy hills and sun, showering in waterfalls. That era was now our memory, a shared dream. "
27 " Stepping outside, all finished, gold porchlight kissed my forehead. The animated nighttime island was a concrete jungle wild with promise, and around any cobblestone corner my big break might exist, disguised as a simple café, waiting for me to open the door. "
28 " My chest drummed, and at the top of a sweetgrass hill speckled with orange-gold California poppies, I danced like a little kid, adrenaline rushing. A sense of great possibility charmed me. A wicked white jolt, wonderful and wrong. "
29 " Not pausing, Justin grabbed my laptop and opened applications for me to return to college, the moon framed in our kitchen, winking in the window from behind a slate storm-cloud. He asked me questions from the forms aloud, marking my responses—applying me to schools in New York City. "
30 " We opened a second bottle of Merlot on the soft leather of our pretty mint-green couch. I’d been intoxicated only a handful of instances in my life. Bittersweet truth blooming, a dandelion in my heart, I confessed to him that I was feeling rootless. I whispered in the small cave of my love’s ear, “I am a lost ship. "
31 " Living with Justin in his childhood home, my love and I had formed an island—a nation-state of two, sleepy and safe. We had only planned to stay with his family for a few weeks after the wedding—three months had passed. Days in our private culture were peaceful, smooth as a frozen lake, our souls stilled. This life with my in-laws was a comfortable hibernation, easy. "
32 " A backlit mist bathed the Cascade foothills in silver as Justin and I pledged our love before a justice of the peace. Standing in the same lush mountains where we’d first met, we exchanged rings, grinning on a stone stage in a fog-flowered forest clearing. "
33 " Trails enabled me to better see the world, to notice fine aspects invisible from an airplane, the most basic things we miss. Seeing life at a pace at which you can actually observe nuance, the speed of stepping, the beautiful inspiring texture of “plain” reality becomes visible—God smiling in the detail. "
34 " He opened his laptop and showed me a picture of a “cozy” Greenwich Village apartment he’d found online. My dad, a born New Yorker, had told me stories of the Village, a lively network of cobblestone streets and jazz dives, coffee houses and folk clubs with no cover fee—and I felt a surge of light-headed ambition. “Though it’s kind of strange,” Justin continued, “there is no bathroom inside. Our toilet would be down a public hallway. "
35 " His simple words of implied tomorrows made me feel secure, adored. "
36 " When tomorrow broke, our hillside home filled up with honeyed light, a fish tank. "
37 " The structure crouched like a great stone tiger on a slope of the East Bay, resting on the cliffside with calm grace. "
38 " Under gold clouds, he pushed the limits of my body, setting a faster pace—some days surpassing forty rugged miles, unstopping through morning’s thick peach haze; noon’s warmth; red evening sun. "
39 " We were in the woods, and not a parent or a friend on earth knew where. At this moment, we were untraceable, this notion an odd pleasure. A patch of fallen leaves glowed in a pool of golden sun, and the dim forest air smelled sweet, of young lilac, invisible sage. "
40 " Seamless like a fall leaf changing color, my will switched powerfully. "