summer is my favorite time of year. i’m built for hot weather. i love to bake in a sunny window, sweat on a sidewalk. summers of years past often tend to take on a rosy tint in my memory; i smell my favorite summertime perfume and the years come rushing back. days by the seashore, nights by the backyard fire. oddly, the bug bites, hangovers, allergy eyes don’t figure quite as heavily into these memories; neither do my deepest darkest summertimes, the times i was so far inside my own body the sun couldn’t reach, the times everything looked perfect but nothing felt right, the long nights drinking alone, treading water in despair that i couldn’t see the bottom of.
and of course, i compare myself to those gilded women of those summers gone. why am i not as carefree, not as creative? not as ready to laugh, not as in love with the air i move though?
i’m not that girl (and i probably never was) but what i am is here. i’m packing up moving boxes and i’m making big plans. i’m working hard and wishing i was working harder. i’m moving through these anxiety attacks the only way i know how – by putting my head under and letting the waves crash over me until i can breathe again. i’ll have another adventure in the passenger’s seat & a long night with the lightning bugs & a perfect, glittering afternoon that drips by with a good book and a sparkling drink. all that much and more is promised. right now all i have to do is be here.