August

Late summer.
I'm only just ready for the summer to begin now, and maybe that's normal -- the State Fair is coming, the Farmer's Market has hit its stride, and most of my friends have already taken one or two trips to the lake.
I'm ready for something I won't get again this year -- the sweet salty smell of the ocean, the briny smell of the beaches (it's the smell of dead fish, really, from a distance); and the heat soaking into my bones as my head empties out completely. Contemplating that blurred blue horizon between sky and sea always fills me with quiet. But, not this year. Maybe next. I've had invitations to head out West, but I'm not quite ready for that -- we haven't once gone on vacation as a family yet, just us. And that should come first.

Meanwhile...
meanwhile, it's that time of year when once upon a time, if I didn't have a boyfriend I'd be on the make now for sure, since summer couldn't back then go by without something like romance.

Instead, I will now attempt to secure some daylight hours of privacy, some time in the next few weeks -- now, it's privacy that holds the most allure. Not because I want to be alone, specifically -- it's just that I need attention, rather than demands for my attention. And I can give myself attention, if I'm also given a few consecutive hours of peace and quiet. And things are calming down a bit, a short reprieve -- I've actually started remembering my dreams again, something I haven't said for weeks and weeks it seems. And I've noticed too that I want (conversely) for people just to talk to me -- just to tell me about themselves. I want to socialize, too, in a way that isn't about meetings and tasks to accomplish, or even visions to articulate. Maybe that's what made dating as enjoyable as it was -- just the getting to know someone, like a surprise package: open it up and see what's inside.

Beach mind. That's what I want.