wild animals.

David feeds the wild animals, in Venice.

Kate has been graciously letting me sleep on her living room couch since I got back from California. There isn’t a solid place for me to plant my roots until classes start- so here I am, couch surfing. Its Sabbath morning 10:00 o’clock; I’ve already been to work today. I sat in the studio cross legged and barefoot, drinking my happy cup of coffee, moving audio files around in the complicated automation system, making sure things are running smoothly.

But now I’m back on Kate’s couch, remembering the story my mom tells about the first time David saw an animal in captivity. We were coming back from Africa, the only place David and I had ever really known as home during our extremely short lives. We had a layover in Amsterdam and our parents took us to the zoo, where little 4-year old David walked around with puzzled eyes and asked our dad, “Why are all the animals in cages?”

Africa had been wild. Complicated. Hard. Joyful. A dream my mom had been dreaming since she was in college. And everything about taking your babies to a third world country is hard- people thought she was absolutely out of her mind. But she is a strong, strong woman and she hauled us all over there with next to nothing, my father included, and made it work for two years.

We were free. Like the animals and the people that live there.

This year I’ll graduate from college and I’m a little worried about living in captivity. About graduating, finding a job, settling down, and paying my student loans…ooooh it just makes me cringe! My idea of it is the complete opposite of what I would choose for myself, and I can’t align to it. I know I don't have to live that life. But still...I’m terrified of becoming like the animals, who will die captives, in the Amsterdam Zoo.