Dear friend,
I thought, for the longest time, that I was the rainy season kind of gal. I loved everything about the rain--the sound it makes on the roof; the sweet, sweet smell it coaxes out of the earth; and the way it gives the impression of purity, of freshness, and renewal at the end of a nice, long downpour. I even bought a rain stick once, you know, one of those cylindrical bamboo poles containing hundreds of minute shells, to mimic the sound of rain whenever I felt the need for it. But, it just recently dawned on me that what I am really is a summer gal.
I know that I start pissing and moaning at the slightest hint of perspiration on my skin, but I realize that I actually like sweating. I like how rooms get awfully warm at noon and the heat ceases to be a thing I imagine, but a thing I feel. I like how it presses on me--it's tangible, it's in my face--a living, breathing thing. I like the way it quickens my pulse to a throb, makes the blood rush to my face--makes every intake of breath, literally, the intake of life. Summers make me feel alive!
