Tara’s Open Letter To Summer 2020 In East Texas
Dear Summer in East Texas,
Can we talk? I have concerns about where our relationship is going. So, 2020 has already been a heck of a year. So please, take it a little easy on us, heat-wise?
Yes, I know we've just begun our yearly journey together. Yes, I know 'tis only June, and the temperatures have yet to rise to the unbearable setting. Yes, I am utterly grateful to you for the blossoming world your particular weather parameters make possible. But, we know how this story goes. Soon, the cycle that leads to the days that are like living in a series of humid, sauna-boxes will continue. Oh but yes, you are stunning. I look out my window and see the utter glory and I'm smitten.
Your siren call will beckon me out the door to embrace this advertised beauty I've seen through my window. Oh but then... it will be too late. The pressure of the humidity will quickly surround me and I will panic, realizing I left my oxygen mask inside. The wasp minions will have spotted me and they will begin to hover and dart, hover and dart, ever-present as I trod down the driveway to the mailbox "mini-roaster" to get my mail. Of course, I've forgotten my oven mitts, so it's a series of little grasps, pulls, and gasps before I can rescue the bills and letters, which are noticeably singed in certain places.
I know, I know there are many who revel in you, Summer in East Texas.They wait all year and cheer and 'woot' at your arrival. They can't wait to put on flip-flops and soak out in the sun until little flames start rising from the pools of their sweat. These fire people have my awed respect, with their white teeth smiling broadly out of their tanned glee-filled faces.
They attend festivals in the high heat, where hundreds or thousands of other sun worshipers gather together to mill about, brushing slippery shoulders with each other on the way to the beer tents. *Sigh* I am clearly missing some gene that enables me to put on my own virtual fire suit and also smile out of my own tanned face.
They don't care that huge spiders have spread webs so large that they might actually trap a small dog, or that the snakes in East Texas are slithering into a scalish frenzy, locking tails dancing to an exotic victory song, forming a circle around trapped humanity. No, no.. that's all fine.
Now, don't get me wrong Summer in East Texas. We have had some marvelous times...like at that water park when I was ten-years-old? Yeah, those were some beautiful, sun-scorched moments. But, some grown women *tend* to avoid water parks (especially with social-distancing and all of that) because at that point they are compelled to unsheathe themselves to all the world. And some of us aren't too fond of that when it involves whipping one's body through the elements. (Although I do love water slides...and some beaches...so that is a risk I am willing to take.)
So, I hope you understand. Can we work together here? Can you take it a bit easy on us cool-weather lovers? Show us more of your best moments. Like when you send those warm kisses of a breeze straight from the lips of Zephyr himself as twilight falls.
I wouldn't mind more of those moments when I'm swimming in a private setting, silently gliding in the evening after the wasp demons have put aside their terrorist duties and subsided for the day. That would be wonderful. I sincerely appreciate you and the setting your provide for some of the most fun we can have as humans. Just, take it easy?
Blazing Hot Regards,
P.S...I really do like the popsicles and blooming hibiscus. Thank you for that.
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