Summer in South Texas rarely begins that way. It was a welcome break from the blazing heat we've had. Because really, summer is not this poetic. To me, summer has always felt like something to be suffered through, to survive and endure. To wait until October offers it's cool, autumn relief. It's my least favorite season of all really. Maybe it has something to do with the hundred-and-something temperatures we get every year.
Somehow it's July already. It's time for cookouts and fireworks. My son's "monster truck" birthday. Wedding showers and the start of the summer of the Olympics. Clearly, it's time for celebration. Yet I feel pensive and melancholy. Maybe it's jut the rain....
I haven't been sleeping well for the past week. My mind is alive and awake with odd thoughts and peace feels far away for some reason. Some of my struggles feel weightier and heavier right now. I feel like I'm trying to make a new plan and recollect myself so I can keep going and fighting for what needs to be fought. I wish life could always feel like more than just a battle to be won.
The last of the rains have gone and the skies are starting to part. July's hot summer sun is mixing with the wet to make the air tangible and sticky and the most uncomfortable kind of warm.