pretty soon it's august.
intense in new ways.
i had some blog drafts in play for the last week or so but i couldn't finish them and share them here. there is simply no way to explain what's happened in a week. what i've sought and what i've found.
i know this much: i will never be the same as i walk forth in love and faith.
resolving the unresolved heart.
it will soon be autumn again which is perfect because winter has not yet left my bones.
she chills me, keeps me on edge, whispers: loss isn't just for cold months.
|i wear long skirts all summer long|
two weeks ago my dad's wife lost her sister to cancer.
last week a sweet friend lost her grandmother to cancer.
i say lost because i don't know what else to say, though it suggests the hopeful assumption of finding them again someday.
i don't like the final and absolute terms we often use for death because once you've known someone, in ways, they are never apart from you. always a part of you. it's true that you can never find them again but they're not lost, as if misplaced. they're just not here.
i wait for news.
i read early atwood, even though it's a chore, because it is necessary. her newer stuff is so easily absorbed, it's as though i wrote it myself, but her first two books are laborious. even the handmaid's tale has to be taken in slowly, sometimes in two-word sentences because those two words say it all.
it's been raining here for about a month, bringing new meaning to flash flood warnings that had become a joke after so many years of dry, barren arroyos. the rain, extreme and record-breaking, brings with it a chill to the air, even in the afternoon.
i am reminded. the summer can be cold, too.