Alisa Lu | Art by Julia Wang
A closed journal rests on a cluttered table by the window. A soft breeze drifts in, and the cover of the journal flaps hesitantly, and the sun, along with all its warmth, invites itself in.
A girl sleeps in her bed, her ears tickled by the chatter of her family outside her bedroom door. Her eyes slowly open. She stares at the ceiling, sits up, and stretches. Her mind warms from the sunlight, and her eyes brighten. She pats down her tangled bedhead and sighs. What was that dream about? Talking palm trees? Huh. Nevermind that.
She ties her hair up and reaches for her laptop, her phone, her earphones. Ready to be productive! She opens up her laptop. Maybe she would be productive if productive meant binging shows.
As she settles in with her breakfast (junk food snacks) and professional work-casual clothes (pajamas), she prepares herself for her productive day. Sitting back, she notices the journal sitting on her desk.
The journal is as empty as it was when she first bought it, despite her promises to herself to record her day-to-day life. When I’m 50, I’ll remember nothing… maybe I should write something.
But then again, nothing is a pretty accurate description of what I’m doing.
The whole summer lies ahead of her, yet she has no plans. Staying home is nice. She sighs, and looks outside the window. Going outside would be nice too.
The pages of her journal start to fill with memories. Happy moments, of travelling and going outside to the beach with friends and family. Feeling the burning sun on her skin, the wild breeze in the air. Sleeping in the car on the way to a concert, jumping excitedly while music fills her ears and her favorite band members dance in front of her.
She closes her eyes, and feels the soft breeze drifting in through the window. She smiles as the warmth of the sun invites itself in. She nods her head to the music in her earphones.
She looks down at her journal. She isn’t creating those types of memories, but she isn’t doing nothing either. Her journal fills with descriptions of her walks to the grocery store, of cooking with her mom, laughing; of waking up to the sound of her family instead of a blaring alarm; of all the wonderful shows she now has time to watch.
And now the pages of her summer journal are no longer empty. She closes the journal, and goes back to binging her shows.