Summertime

It's funny because just earlier this week I was sitting on the couch in the morning, shivering, listening to scattered rain drops hit the window, thinking that in a few short days, I will be sitting in the same spot, sweating, listening to fireworks explode outside my front door. The heat wave was coming.

Now is that time of summer. The time when it's 80 degrees at ten at night; the little fan, blowing with all its might, cuts a minuscule swath through the heat. I've lived through days like this before. Having spent many years working outside, in the dust, and the heat, with horses, the setting sun brought a welcome cool to the 100+ days. Nights like tonight were cherished as the animals and I could breathe a sigh of relief after being brutalized by sun all day.

Yet, despite my memories of endless hot summers. Despite sitting here now, 2230 and sticky from sweat, I could not place myself here five days ago. I knew the heat wave would happen, but on that shivery Monday morning, I couldn't feel being shoeless, in a tank-top, and still too hot. And sitting here now, even though I remember that I shivered on Monday, I cannot feel it, put myself there. It is a memory that, for now, only exists in my mind.

And that's a blessing I suppose, how the mind remembers but the feeling subsides. For now I will revel in this moment, a hot, late night. In two days it will be different, as the heat wave will have subsided, gone dormant for a time, but remembered.