I'm feeling immobilized by memory today. Being around children often causes me to feel this way. I think of all the life choices I have made, or failed to make. There have been many times when I didn't speak up, leaving my future in the shaky hands of random chance. Things have mostly turned out okay, but with a little more action on my part, they might have turned out even better.
I see all of these children around me with their lives stretched out before them. They might not all live to become adults. It's an even bet that most of those who do grow up will do so at the cost of some integral part of themselves - maybe their imagination; most definitely their sense of wonder - that welcoming openness with which they greet the world. Many will lose their happiness. Worry will creep into their lives. All will lose their innocence. Some have already lost it in horrible ways.
I can almost remember what it was like to be a child - the newness of everything - the way time stretched on forever. Everything was so much simpler then. At least for me, it was. I try to hang on to my awareness of childhood. This is one of the main reasons I spend time with children.
This all leads me back to Andy, who showed up to school yesterday with a cut across his cheek and a bandage on his left arm. He ran away when he saw me coming, as if he knew I would ask questions he didn't want to answer. His teacher only shook her head sadly when I asked her about it. Andy's parents apparently hold some influence in this town. When I broached the subject to the school administrators, I was bluntly told by them that they were aware of the problem and were doing all they could. They also suggested that I not try to talk to Andy any further, intimating that he wouldn't be helpful for my study, as he tended to make things up.
I bit back a retort and left for the day. I felt that if I spent another minute around those damned cowards that I might do something that I would later regret. Now I'm sitting at home doing nothing except wallowing in my memories. I've been thinking about Isabel a lot lately - wondering where she is - wondering how she is. I'm occasionally haunted by the smell of her hair - a faint wafting of lavender mixing with the earthy smell of the forest outside my windows. It makes me feel alone, which makes me work harder. I've decided to spend some extra time at Stenbock because I have a feeling... I'm not sure how to describe it - a feeling that important events will occur here (or have occurred here, perhaps...).
Of course, I've gotten these feelings before in situations that remained mundane, but one never knows...
How set is the future? What combination of events must occur in order for one to be truly trapped? How many bad choices does it take? My negative thoughts are cannibalizing each other again. I think it's way past time to log off and go for a walk. Perhaps I'll venture into the woods again. One never knows what lurks in the woods.

I spent the morning trying to organize my notes, with limited success. After lunch, I took a walk in the woods to clear my head. It had rained overnight, and I breathed in the wonderful scent of wet pine. The slugs were out in force, and woodpeckers tapped away above my head, unseen in the evergreen density. I thought about Andy, and beneath my relaxation a certain tension grew. It's silly, of course, to let a folk tale or urban (no, not really urban, more rural) legend gnaw at me this way. I chalk this up to the strange combination of events over the last week. The screaming and the stories are feeding off of each other in my head, leaving me on edge. The woods, usually so serene, all of a sudden harboured hidden malevolence. Out of the corners of my eyes, the dark shadows underneath the bushes and trees seemed to roil suggestively, as if something were sneaking out after me. I'm sure this feeling will pass.