Finding time to write is next to impossible these days. It’s late July already in a summer of storms, both atmospheric and personal.
I’m trying to hold on to summer, 95 degree and 100 percent humidity summer. I’ve been cheated out of pool time thanks to this year’s torrential downpours that begin in the morning and last till sundown. Sundown equals bedtime for me, summer or not, because I’m up at 4:30 a.m.
The season started spectacularly with my daughter’s beachside wedding, the very day Tropical Storm Alberto brushed the state. Now the dog days of summer have arrived and I haven’t met my quota of cookouts or ice cream or beach sand in my toes.
This summer it’s as if the east coast and west coast seabreezes are colliding right over our heads and it won’t stop pouring.
That pretty much describes where we’re at right now–the aftermath of another hospitalization and now mobility issues. Instead of road trip accommodations, I’m searching online for heavy-duty rollators and bedside commodes. We should be searching for the best barbecue joint on the interstate.
Maybe this summer can be salvaged after all. Maybe the skies will clear. Maybe we can get my hubby out of the house and into the car for an ice cream run.
I’m not giving up on summer yet.
stl16 