I remember hot summer days, especially on a Saturday afternoon. The old Black and White TrueTone playing some old western. Shot somewhere in a desert all hot and dry. Me sitting there bored, too hot to go outside. Nothing but a box fan turning hot air to keep me cool. My mouth as dry as those desert sands, wishing for cooler days. That’s about how I feel waking up this morning, my mouth parched and my throat dry.
Funny how memories play with your head. How old songs trigger a certain memory or how a certain scent reminds you of someone. Of lazy summer days, bare feet in the sand, fighting off sand gnats, under the shade of a moss covered oak. Is that living in the past? Or is that a just a safe space we retreat back into? Coming to grips with my age is a funny thing. Time seemed so infinite at one point. Now I watch it pass by like a speeding train.
I hope you don’t expect this story to make much sense. It’s more of an exercise in boredom, when your mouth is dry and you’ve spent too much time in the sun. But we muddle through searching for meaning, while the world stopped, forcing us to look at ourselves. Funny isn’t it, how the distraction we longed for, turns into the moment we dread. So here’s to a long hot summers, to sand gnats, and drinking from hot garden hoses. To the memories and the moments, we have left.