Monday, July 14, 2008

Southern Summers

Written on my old blog over two years ago...two days before my 25th birthday. How much it still feels true...

"Southern summers are indifferent to the trials of love..." - The Notebook

Southern summers are indifferent to a lot more trials than love. They're indifferent to hairspray, carefully applied only to have your hair fall from humidity within two minutes of walking outside; they're indifferent to makeup, which begins to run as soon as you get in your car that closely resembles a sauna from late May til early September. They're indifferent to the chorus of grasshoppers and crickets that begin to sing when night falls right outside your window and gets so loud that you literally pray for the AC to kick on and drown them out so you can fall asleep.

Why am I speaking of southern summers when it's 36 degrees outside right now, at nearly 2 in the morning? Because I can hear the crickets. They are outside my window right now, singing that summer is just around the bend, and a new season is about to begin.

I can't say it's been a long, hard winter. I actually like winter. I'm one of those strange people who likes the cool weather, likes snow and don't really like the opressing humidity that summer brings. I like the sun on my face and backyard barbeques, yes...but when seasons change it's a reminder of all that has been done since the last time that season was upon us. Summer especially brings to mind a time of ending, re-grouping and reflection, and when this summer arrives, it will mark one year since I have been back in Kentucky.

I can no longer say, "I just moved from..." or explain away the fact that I'm not sure which road I'm on to "oh, see, I just got back...." I should be adjusted now. And I am, for the most part. I guess it's just losing it's novelty; and I am losing my excuse for sometimes faltering and feeling a bit unsettled.

It's been a year. I should probably just get over it now.

I was in a wedding late last July and it was outside. The heat was unbearable, we were sweating upon walking out the door and I listened to the words in a distant way while hoping the whole thing would end soon and we could all go inside and have a cold drink.

The cicadas were circling, the lawnmowers were humming and mosquitos hovered. It was somewhat of a welcome home, in a way. Welcoming me back to a place where time still seemingly stands still when the air is thick with steamy humidity. Where the air is thick with memories and hazy with the ghosts of summers past.

I'm not sure the point of all this, I just got inspired to write a bit with the crickets outside and all. It's not quite time for the AC to be turned on just tonight, I'll sleep to their song.

Maybe they're welcoming me back again.

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