It always surprises me when days start getting longer in January, February. Such a wind-up for summer so far away. The evenings my stomach grumbles and I think it can't be right because it's still light out, only to find it's suddenly 7.
The summer solstice is special to me. I remember a night hike when I was 17, thinking about how every day can be so full. For the most part I take every drop to extreme heart. But especially on the namesake.
Yesterday morning I woke up anxious and sad, as has been a recent trend. It's like I had one to three worries for a year and a half and now I have dozens. It's too many and worse there are too many options for solution. I'm out of practice making choices.
Nevertheless I journaled, I penned a little something, I read this novel with the blue cover. I texted my dad for the holiday. I decided on a 20 minute Peleton cardio--the toughest kind of exercise I do. Maybe that'd amp me up. There was also cookie dough tea. Showered to Aqua and got dressed in a crop top and laid in bed for a while all clean in the sheets. I planned to avoid social media this weekend and for some reason went on in the late morning, regrettable. Had my veggie bacon and coffee on the nightstand, decided to keep the desk closed this once. Upkept my artist journal and my organizational notebook and my planner and my spreadsheet of progresses. It's a lot of on top of it I do every Sunday, but it somehow feels empty and the urge to produce something was great. Trying to honor my day off, I meditated instead. On the ground with the square pillow and seashell towel. I thought about the pool but decided no, and was happy I'd swum yesterday instead. The Suns won.
At 3ish began getting ready for an engagement party at the park. Puhg and I arrived near 4, eerie and bright merry-go-round music welcoming us. Heaps of families having picnics and a cotton candy man I eyed. We wished our friend congrats and heard his stories. Two others showed up and we chatted and laughed and pet their dogs. We played a lawn game and I kept breaking the pieces. This is fun, I clearly thought. Then what a treat so missed and rarely possible--it was getting later, so we said, "we might go get dinner, wanna join?" And they did and we went to the same diner Puhg and I had coincidentally gone yesterday. It was so cool in the patio shade and I was so aware of the yellow shine on the mural across the street. Lower and lower.
The hippy sandwich was a delight. The sun slipped below the post office wall. I checked the time, set in just a few minutes. We all discussed the summer camps we'd been to. Stood up and walked out onto the sidewalk corner, took a photo, back to the car, inside toward home. Ophelia by the Lumineers was on the radio as the glow faded. Fed the hamster seeds, searched for a movie, found a strange creepy one, started it, but felt dizzy. Had four Thin Mints who had been frozen for months, put in a sound bath headphone, fell asleep at 10 o'clock.
And it will suddenly be so dark. Some day in November. Clocking out of work before the brightness even had her chance. And it will feel long, like how does one fill all the midnight space. But we will only have to wait until December for the magic to reverse.
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