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2002-08-23 1:16 p.m.

Andie sent me this message when I was at lunch:
Andie: JUSTIN COME HOME! I am out of here, so I'll see you tomorrow evening! Hooray! Travel safe my sweet. I love you more than I know how to say! I can't wait to tell you that and look into your beautiful brown eyes. Have a fun trip! Bye!
--Andie signed off (12:16:31PM)--
It had never occured to me before that someone might think my eyes were beautiful or want look into them in the way I know she means. To me my eyes are brown and boring. What strikes me most about them is that the flaws in their shape allow me the joy of wearing funky glasses—so much a part of me that I barely recognize myself without them. Sure, my brown eyes allow me to see, but beautiful is not a word I would use. It feels so lucky—so magical—to think that Andie—this wonderful, beloved friend—finds beauty in my eyes. My heart goes pitter patter; my breath is rushed.

I leave for Burning Man tomorrow morning. I send out invisible hugs to all my friends who will stay behind.


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