What parts of myself feel the most alive under the heat of summer
It’s the version of me that comes out dripping in sweat. There is dirt under my nails. I hold a rock in my hand. It’s the me who forgets what time it is. I’ve been outside too long. I trace trails with my feet and stories with my eyes. Summer makes me reckless in a soft way. Not chaotic. Not destructive. Just free. The sun makes my skin hum. I feel more real when it’s hot enough to blur the edges of things.
Water
I come alive near water. In it. Around it. Listening to the hush and crash of it. Watching the way it sparkles and swallows light and tosses it back up. There’s a version of me that only shows up in July. A version that lets things slide more easily. That laughs more. That eats with bare hands. That lets sweat gather at the back of my neck and doesn’t try to hide it.
Nature is Demanding
I complain about the bugs and the heat but I think I like that too. The way nature demands I participate. I like having to move slower. To swat something away. To know I’m not the only thing alive out here.
The dirt feels like home. The sun feels like a crown. Even when I’m tired. Even when I’m burned out. I am most myself under this fire. My body remembers how to trust itself. My breath gets bigger.
I don’t just exist in summer. I live in it. I stretch. I bloom. I let the world see me without apology.
