#marinalindschmitt

[marinalindschmitt]

writing, writing, writing. i have to keep writing to keep this all from boiling out: your hand on my back, your face in the firelight, theology over lunch, pasta for supper, sailing in the morning, on the lake, a breath away from you. quoting books in the last of the light, your kindness always, and especially when i am not.

marina lind

[marinalindschmitt]

#3

Hands black with bicycle grease, instant oatmeal in aluminum mugs, sitting in the stairwell on the third floor. That two mile stretch of greenbelt. Stringed instruments and voices rising. The overstuffed couches that are home to us, and the hard, armless ones that know us now. Sleeping in hammocks hung between bed frames, giving and borrowing rather faithfully, spending all of our money at REI garage sales, becoming family. Learning about patience and loneliness. Campus at night. Bike lights flashing through the window; riding through the rain. Steadfast strength, seeking out the truth and laying down your life. Work pants, fleece, and sandals. Black coffee at the M, one eighty. The difference between kindness and gentleness. The teasing and sharing of old stories. Late night movies, flat tires, popcorn failures, and long drives home with many breathing bodies. Standing on an icy street corner in the dark of a winter night. Asking hard questions and being honest.

[marinalindschmitt]

#2

Sitting in school hallways, running across campus, coffee between us. Plans for road trips and surprise visits. Anger tumbling out of love and loyalty. Neon clothing and hikes up the mountain. Broad shoulders, opening doors, old spice, learning, the hard way the value of hard work and being persistent.  Watching you grow from boy into man. Mountains and food. The black bulk of a camera in hand. A little lost, but thoughtful and faithful and going home. Working through pages of math homework, sitting at picnic benches on fall afternoons and video calls from stuffy New York apartments to cool cabins in the Cascades. Celebrating our friends’ joys as we discover our own. Dark evergreen forests and blue rivers. Still waters run deep. Full crockpots, green aprons, goofy faces, North Face jackets, country music, and board games. Sitting on top of dusty bookshelves and at blue cafeteria tables, pulling out the truth.

[marinalindschmitt]

#1

City sidewalks. Late summer light. Flower crowns, fresh grass beneath our feet, and blueberries off the bush. Pop music blaring in a dusty minivan on Seattle streets. Crowding into a tiny, black half-bath. Black dresses and red lipstick. Sleeping under sheets with open windows and air conditioning at full blast. Sweat pooling on our backs in subway tunnels. Sharing stories as we lay on our backs in the park at night, watching the city lights. Long phone calls, changing time zones, and brown packages in the mail. Floors covered in paper, thread, and clothes. Romcoms on laptop screens as we eat cookie dough out of the bowl. A friendship withstanding the distance. Thrift store sweaters, one dollar pizza, and electric heating pads. Honest questions. Not knowing what to do and trusting God that He will be good. Salad on blue and white plates.