There was a heat spell like no other that summer, and it left everyone to forget the way it felt to wear jackets and catch a breath of crisp, cold air in the middle of the afternoon.
That summer, the sun mercilessly blazed down on the earth and its inhabitants right from the unholy hours of the morning until late evening, when it fell in dying flames over the distant mountains. But even when it was completely gone and the night breeze gave the land a sigh of relief, she was left to toss and turn under the sheets rumpled across her bed; the house was cool during the days, but it always seemed to absorb the heat by the time the moon took its rightful place in the sky.
Summer was a fire. The flames danced across open grass fields and behind eye sockets. Monsters grew in the pits of our stomachs, monsters that exceeded light so harsh that it blinded us from the inside. Summer had no rain. We could not put out the raging storm.
Summer was sticky. Dust particles swimming in the air, sun rays refracting against the walls in an illusion of beauty; and the sweat, the sweat, the sweat that rushed out of their temples and poured down at gravity’s will, the glorious sweat that dripped down their faces like rain drops drip down a car window on a wet winter day… but sweat was sticky, and they felt it for days.
For too long, summer burned. But there came the day when the sky could not bear it anymore, and so the heat spell broke. Everyone started to remember what it was like to curl up under thick comforters.
She did not feel any remorse when summer left. Even though it meant her boundaries were limited, she was appreciative of the heavy skies.
She would only walk down that road in the summer. As a child, she was warned that coyotes roamed those hills, claiming the vast stretches of land as their own. For years, she refused to set foot in unknown territory, and she was left to wonder why such danger lived just a quarter mile away from home. When she realized that very few could handle the roaring monster, it seemed reasonable that the coyotes were not among those few.
She knew that she was, though.
A free write in response to the lovely change of weather we’ve been having in California lately.