Hot July MorningPosted: July 22, 2010
Six thirty in the morning I sit at my computer, the desk beside a window where the sun rises across the street and pushes its heat inside and around me. My skin feels moist and the old Vols national championship tee shirt I slept in — Tennessee 23, Florida State 16 — sticks to me. Sleep? I didn’t sleep much. Slept too hard on the couch before bedtime, couldn’t sustain sleep throughout the duration of night.
Up early, though, same time, 4:45. The coffee is set on automatic, and the dog smells it brewing. She awakens, licks her feet, her collar tags jingle and disturb the sleep I’m finally getting. She’s desperate to go out and pulls me behind her when I attach the leash.
The creases at my elbows are starting to moisten. Under my breasts, too. Coffee makes me hot now. I close the blinds beside me, hear the birds chattering behind them. I push my hair back off my forehead and feel dampness at the scalp.
I get e-mail from my sister, who is on a cruise in Alaska. Looking at glaciers, going from bay to bay to view wildlife, panning for gold in the Yukon. I picture ice, cold waves of water, cool breeze on skin. And cold nuggets of gold.
The only gold I have is a parched yard. Thirsty yellow grass. The weeds are green, though. I need to mow them before it gets any hotter.
Sometimes it seems the weeds take over my life, too. Sometimes I need to see some gold.