So, here I am trading e-mails with my new good friend (not something one says easily in the last third of life) and talking trash about our glory days when I realize that this is what the mid-summer blahs are all about. You should remember that life isn't going to always be hot and life isn't going to always be well defined, but it should be a journey re-visited.
I have extraordinary dreams in the month of August and some are prophetic. I once called a manicurist friend to tell her to take extra care touching peoples hands because I saw her getting very sick. I don't know if that's what caused her to use the disinfectant spray with all of us, but she listened; didn't laugh and didn't get sick. While that's not the prophetic thingy, I tend to pay attention to my dreams when the temperature rises and the boggy month of August is upon me. I woke up last week, full awake, because I thought someone had shouted "pay attention". I will.
Yes, it's hot. But it isn't any hotter than say 1979 when my oldest and dearest friend from college lost her home air conditioner. I took her a box fan and a six pack of orange Crush. I thought she'd cry from joy. Yes, it will come the autumn and the changes will come with harsh winds, turning leaves and then a softness we will all rejoice in. Halloween and little children in costumes at our doors and if we are lucky that will be Indian Summer. Breath. Trust. Look to the blue sky and know that Oklahoma has it's own color, like Italy. We are the Paris of Oklahoma, we live in Tulsa.
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