Summer Haze

There has always been an energy around summer that I can't quite keep up with. This year, that energy felt very strong - hot and thick and demanding to be recognized. Although I did spend a good amount of this season indoors - reading about therapeutic theories and scrawling spinal cord tracts across my tiny whiteboard - I always tried to make time to get outside. I longed be as close to Lake Superior as I could, or at least go on a walk that has a view of it in the distance. It felt so good to be outside so much after feeling pretty locked up this past year. 

The heat has also brought irritability, and a sort of impatience for time to not feel so slow and heavy. In the second half of summer the irritability increased as I would open my blinds every morning and find my precious view of the lake to be blocked by thick haze and smoke. 

With the heat also came the heavy grief of recognizing one year anniversaries of the passing of my beloved aunt Molly and my brave cousin Claire. Though at times, the summer weather gave me comfort as I listened to songs we used to listen to out at my grandparents pool years ago and felt transported back to those sweet, long, lazy days of summer: playing silly games in the water, swimming until our skin pruned and our sunburned shoulders turned tan, and eating dinners grandpa had cooked on the grill as we watched the sun set over the river and our wet hair finally began to dry. It is these summer moments that warm me, and ones that I know will always keep Molly and Claire alive.

And still, I have been aching for fall since July - a season of swirling and settling after summer has seemed to mix everything up. I even started compiling my fall playlist - melodies that feel gentle and cozy and cool. 

Last week, I packed a small bag of things to head home to the cities for the weekend. As I drove out of Duluth, it was cloudy and a bit rainy as I sipped my iced pumpkin chai and finally allowed myself to listen to my fall songs. I felt my shoulders relax as I exhaled and felt completely at home and understood amongst the weather, songs and promise of a new season turning.  

As I continued to drive, however, the air became thick with smoke from the fires. I could smell it and feel it pressing into my throat. My shoulders tensed as I was forced to see and feel the harsh reminders of summer - fires, dryness, and the grey, clinging feeling of grief that is around me but doesn't quite know where - or how - to land. 

Yet as I drove on I hit heavier spots of rain and could feel the exhale and relief within the atmosphere. And in the last leg of my drive, the sun finally broke through the clouds, like it was cleansing the sky. 

And to close out the season, here is the song that carried me through the summer.