It’s not really summer until you get past June with all the school duties tied in a bow, and, I’d argue, past July 4th with all the weather-dependent folderol of fireworks, crowds, and parades. Such a will-it-won’t-it holiday needs to pass, to that we can get down to the real business of summer: juicy slow living.
Each season has a magic, and summer’s is carried in on the backs of fireflies at 10pm sunsets. You have permission to call back that youthful side of you that lived care-free for a precious few months, worrying only about where your favorite swimsuit was and whether you would sleep in it again that night.
I know most of us can’t reclaim that space, really. Jobs, family, adulting get in the way, but maybe maybe there’s a weekend you can grab with unscheduled laziness in a hammock, or a dinner you assemble that starts with ice cream like your 10-year old self would have never dreamed was possible.
Because here’s the thing: you’re the boss of you.
Do with that what you will, but last week I truly realized that more summers are promised to no one.
That doesn’t mean that I have to maniacally live every moment to its exact fullest, each day is full in it’s own way. All I have to do is notice.
The following post is a boost to paid subs, as a thanks for paying writers and hanging in there with me. There’s a ‘ZINE!! I couldn’t help myself, the idea of something floating around your summer bag getting crinkled and mashed, maybe catching a swipe of ketchup from a packet, was tooooo delicious. Also books to grab, music to hear, an actual hammock you need stat, and just juicy stuff that you might decide to bookmark and spool out over some loose days and long nights.
XO SMarch
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