I ran. I ran down every back street and alley in my little town. I ran in the woods. I ran through creeks. I ran in the rain. I ran in 100 degree weather, something I do not advise. Then I stopped running, not by my choice, but there I was.
I had multiple minor surgeries, and something called "nerve-burning", which I also do not advise unless you absolutely must. I felt afraid. A lot. I cried. Bawled, wailed, you name it. I cried a lot this summer. And I also laughed. At the futility of even pretending that we have control over our lives, at all the ways we create the illusion of control, the ways we attempt to hold our fates in our tight, controlling hands. I belly-laughed too, which is a different sort of laughter. I laughed in bed when I couldn't go anywhere, I laughed by the firepit in the middle of the night, I laughed at and with my son, at and with my husband.
I prayed this summer. I prayed intentional prayers, well-thought-out prayers, full of poetry and light. I prayed in gibberish, in tongues, in and through tears and out through my lips, and I prayed in the quiet of the night by the sleeping figures of my loved ones. I prayed that in facing my own darkness, I would come out victorious. And I did.
I ate. I ate berries for nearly every meal, either alone, or scattered across pancakes, or my morning oatmeal, or yogurt. I ate corn on the cob so crunchy and sweet that the kernels burst open between your teeth, salty and buttery, sometimes an entire meal being nothing but sweet corn and herb butter. I ate ice cream on the beach, cold in my mouth while the sand was hot on my feet. I ate perfect, tiny, glazed doughnuts and washed them down with cup after cup of strong coffee. Oh, and I drank. I drank wine. And beer. Iced tea with mint sprigs and sliced peaches. Glasses and glasses of ice water. Ginger ale when I didn't feel well. Smoothies when I did.
I painted. I danced (a little). I sang in my kitchen. I designed invitations for my brother's wedding. I collected things, feather, shells, leaves, flowers, pieces of tree bark, dirty old things, found paper. I wrote a lot of poems, some terrible, and some lovely. I hula hooped. I gardened barefoot. I grew a little. I made love. And war. I hugged trees. I swam deep. I explored. I hibernated. I missed people that I love.
What did you do this summer?
