17 again

I feel 17 again. It’s already so cold here but it rained as well; the temperature dropped, the drizzles ballooned, the winds went racing, and my warm layers weren’t nearly warm enough. Instead of challenging my adrenaline and hiking up a fell, I modified my plans and stayed in; not at the cottage but inside a bus. No matter how severe the conditions but I could never waste a day sitting inside; I’d regret it too much. Now there are some special circumstances when staying in proves to be a bit better plan but nope, today was not that day.

I shivered while handing over the ticket to the driver and chose to sit towards the back where the seats are elevated and the view panoramic. The cheap plastic lid didn’t work and I had to hold the coffee upright at all times. For every sip I took, a sip leaked on my hand, my sweater, my scarf, and even my boots. The bus started from Keswick and went to Penrith, on to the Pooley Bridge, and towards the cows at Glenridding. I had an urge to inhale to the limit, squeeze my abs and step outside to stroll around but it was much too cold. The lake was a bluish color, not the usual blue you see on the postcards but a different one. A bit of silver, a bit of peacock, I’m unsure. I wanted to capture it permanently but it was much too cold. We then passed a little town called Ullswater, a place that I’d like to call home or at least my time share. The place is simply ‘unspoilt.’

We kept going and reached the farthest point, the point of a required return, Patterdale.

On my way back walking, I stopped at a little Cinderella store called ’17 again’ and bought a slice of the Victorian cake. Three layers of cake rolled in raspberry jam and happily separated by whipped cream. I had been eyeing on this for 2 nights and finally submerged. Then I realized – the anticipation was better.

Anyway, I never thought I could feel 17 again but I do; I’ve had a week-long crush on a certain someone, a crush with a tensile strength of steel. He looks at me with a look of desire, his hair falls over his forehead, his eyes squint wanting to tell me something, and his smile waits for mine. I only knew of his existence a week ago and he is almost fictional but I feel 17 again.


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