It’s hot, the kind of hot that makes it hard to breathe and creates sweat stains under the armpits of your gym shirt. Summer’s not even close, but it’s hot hot hot and the air conditioning’s not on so the air is thick and I have to take deep breaths in order to regulate my air supply. It’s not bad, but it’s not great either, though I am comforted by the fact that the temperatures are dipping to 49 come Saturday.
I like warm sun on my cheek and grass between the soft curves of my feet that will slowly become tough as fall approaches, but I do like things to be cool and comfortable, flat against me, bumping against my being. It’s nice to know that when I need it, the sun is there to cast inexplicably beautiful shadows and brighten the red in my hair; it’s nice to know that the rain will come and cool things down and make the warmth retreat a bit. I can have the cold drip of a Popsicle sliding down my throat or the racing raindrops on my window glass, and though a lot of people in my area complain, I like this moody weather. It’s more honest, I think, than Florida weather.
This is summer, pushing back the days of pollen-drifting spring and tumbling towards the sort of days where everything seems right.