now that it’s getting hotter in the northern hemi, the annual uptick of posts lamenting the heat have begun
you’ve been out in the sun all day, or maybe even just on your walk home. it’s dark in the house, at least compared to out in the blinding sun. there’s a cold shower calling your name. you have cold noodles or a chilled salad or honestly, just a bowl of ice cream for dinner. your sheets are cotton. the aircon is running, but over it you can hear the cicadas and crickets outside your window. they sound like the summers of your youth, running around outside, sweating your ass off, up past your bedtime, but there’s no threat of school to send you to bed. everything is that vibrant, oversaturated shade of a distant memory that’s maybe more of a feeling now.
perhaps tomorrow there’ll be a thunderstorm. it’ll come in the hottest part of the day and not make anything better - in fact, it’ll only succeed in driving the humidity up another 10%. when the sun comes back out after it’s done, the pavement will be steaming and everything will look that much brighter, glistening in the fresh sunlight. you’ll see the heat lightning crackling on the horizon for hours afterwards as it moves on to the next unsuspecting town.
to me, there’s always been something raw and unfettered about summer, about the ever present heat flush on my face and the feeling of a deep breath of humid air. maybe it’s because i grew up in the swamps, first in florida, and then on the delmarva. maybe it’s because i was just built wrong. but every year, i’m counting down the days until we hit 90F, until that humidity gets into the eighties. it’s the time of year that i feel the most alive.
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