Last month we took our June bug on vacation to Savannah and Charleston, to soak up some sweet southern sunshine and stroll through some of the most beautiful streets in America. It was June’s first flight. Andrew and I love to travel. We both have flexible jobs, friends and family scattered across the globe. We…
You don’t know me yet, I said to him once, as we stood among the cat reeds watching the sun set over the water. This was in the days when the thought of us was still new, before love or forever ever entered our vocabulary.
Then show me, he told me, palms stretched open and eyes pleading. Show me everything there is to know.
There’s the thing of my family, I explained, hesitating, my tongue too thick and clumsy to find the words inside my heart. And the other side of the world.
How do you explain to a person you think you might be beginning to love a thing you’ve loved fiercely your whole life, maybe even before you were born? This is the question I’ve asked myself a hundred times. How do you let a new person in to a community you’ve always held sacred; a community whose key is laughter and tears, and whose gates are sealed with idioms and memories?
The sticky breath of summer comes out full, with its drawn out days and warm sweet nights.
The days are full and slow to pass, and so deceivingly quick that I’ve stumbled upon the end of July, nestled in Summer’s crooked elbow for only one month more.
It’s been a summer of many friends, of picnics, reunions, and trips to the lake. We’ve had walks along the beach, with sandy toes and sticky legs, lost in a conversation that flows in and out of words and laughter. It’s been a summer of late night fires, of flames trying to outshine stars, of sharing talking over the crickets until the last embers burn out. We’ve read our books under the shade of a tree, along the shores of a lake, and we’ve sat outside under patio lights at a cafe on the street. It’s been a summer of reuniting with old friends and older friends, and also one of new faces and places. It’s been the summer of a new state, and the balmy airs and sunny days have made the transition downright easy.
The sea is whispered to have powers that heal, so we raced to its waters for a taste of the salt. Sand and waves, the tide gave us freely, chapping our skin and enlarging our hearts. But more giving than the waters were the three sea soaked towels, and the girls that occupied them in sundress and hats. And more soothing than the lapping of the waves upon the sand was the laughter on the lips of these three dear friends.
There we lay, the four of us, sprawled out in the corner where our worlds overlapped. Somewhere in the middle of nature’s paradise, encompassed in a dome of white sands and breezy palm trees, but somehow too lost in conversation to notice the waters that sang or the skies that smiled; too joyous at re-remembering the word patterns and mannerisms so characteristic of each participant to hear the birds overhead. And so we lazed in the sun and burnt to a crisp, but our hearts couldn’t be more refreshed.