It’s that time. The time of year worse than the whole of winter combined. When we’ve had it. With every synapse of our minds, every follicle of our skin, every phantom cell of our soul:
We need Summer.
But Summer is a flighty, uncaring temptress. She takes her damn time. She naps and adorns her hair and organized her closets. She spends all day and night on the phone with her old flame, Fall. She leafs through musty sonnets and picks at her vegetables and won’t come out to play.
Well, your time is running out, my dear. The sun told me so. Between work, child care, household chores, running errands, play dates, and dinner parties, I took a break to sit and shut my eyes yesterday in the backyard. And you know what? Out of the blue (or rather grey) the sun reached down and set the back of my eyelids on fire. It beamed into my mind, body, and soul saying, “It will get better. Soon.”
I think that’s the first time I sat and felt in weeks. Ever since Shirley passed. Coincidentally (or not?), Shirley pointed her life toward the sun.
And you can ask anyone, and they’ll tell you the same: She was one wise old broad.
We need you for this Summer: to soak, to breathe, to frolic, to enjoy, to be. To remember what it feels like to live in these bodies at this time among all this beauty, even among the parade of not-so-beautiful things that comes with it.
We only get one life, and the days slip through our hands like water.
So keep your eyes out for a patch of sun. Sit, close your eyes, and really feel it. Enjoy it. Soak it in.
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