Hello there, July. For the record, I do not condone summer’s refusal to wait for my go-ahead. I’m still wandering wobbly-kneed through the second week of June, and I really would have appreciated all the school closings and triple digit temperatures holding off until I could collect myself. About that last one—Did you know that we don’t have air conditioning? The Italian strategy for surviving summer involves 1) nudity, 2) napping, and 3) nude napping at the beach, and while each is worthy in its own right, circumstances occasionally dictate that I be dressed and/or conscious. Maybe the heat’s just getting to me more this summer because my head’s still back in strawberry season.
I’ve barely touched my computer over the last three weeks except for busy work, and I’ve felt this kind of sad, longing, tired push-pull every time I’ve walked by its closed lid. Between a string of emotional anvil drops and a rejection notice at the tail end of a heartwound publication process, my ability to string words together seemed to drain right out of me. One of the ways I traditionally deal with word-bereavement is rock solid stoicism. I decide our relationship was never meant to be and that it’s about time I embraced my true calling as a housecleaner. And then I cry into the mop water. And the dishwater. And the tonic water. I’m a real heavyweight.
But even in all the crumminess and confusion of the last few weeks, I never felt truly disconnected, and I want to thank you from the dregs of my heart for that. Your notes and prayers after our friend’s death sat with me at his funeral and shared the dinner table with his grieving family, and I’m a kind of grateful that can’t be articulated. I’m also deeply thankful for your encouragement to be here, to value my own writerly heart enough to ditch the mop water (our seasonal infestation of ants thanks you too, btw) and rescue my blog from solitary confinement. Thankthankthank you.
It’s better to start summer late than never, right? Here’s to more connecting, less mopping, and nude napping on the beach.
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How are you welcoming the summer?
Filed under: Another social casualty, Grey, grey tune, Mambo Italiano, No such thing as the real world, Well-painted passion
Tags: Coping, Friendship, Identity, Writing
wait. nude napping?
I would totally be a puddle if it weren’t for the Air Conditioning. Really. I don’t know how you do it! I want to box one up and send it right on over.
As for the funk…I hope it has lifted. I have missed your words and, well…YOU. Cleaning is over-rated. Writing is where it is at (for you especially!). Summer here is feeling HOT and HUMID for the past week. The week before was blissful, now we have descended into the inferno of hell. I have hid inside all day, and our ice maker cannot keep up. I am wishing for the cool breezes to return so I can open my windows.
Sending you a LOT of love! xoxo
I have missed you, too, and everyone…but not enough to post more right now. You guys should come HERE for the cool breezes!