Its the summer of Birds, and It is the summer of Fish. It is the summer of late night swims in the pool and sleeping deeply, long into the quiet mornings. It is a mysterious summer, where pine needles collect in piles in the driveway without a witness to their descent. It is the summer of thursdays with my son and his girl and my sweet grandbaby. Lunches on the porch and playing in the water. It is a summer of worry about my daughter who has injured her shoulder, and has unrelenting pain. Worry about making ends meet the other ends and pulling it all together, not for myself but for my children and my grandchildren.
For me it is a summer in pajamas, feeling the soft cotton legs of my old bottoms wear and rub against the soft cotton skin of my ankles. It feels as if part of the fluid water of my swimming resides in my legs.
It is the mornings of the summer, where on a hard chair I sew my thoughts into things, surrounded by the detritus of thread and paper and fabric and feeling, that I step into my spot as creator. May you be happy. May you be peaceful. May you be healthy. May you be safe. May you be at ease. May you be free from suffering. Robin