05/07/2022

Take a Dip

Spend a summer evening with us this month

Summer Storms

In the calm aftermath of our first severe summer thunderstorm, my house sits quietly, almost patient.

I’m listening to Tom Rosenthal harmonise through my headphones, while fretful anoles duck past fat rain droplets from the gutters and scurry across the damp patio.

Life has been charmingly mundane in our small teal house lately. Today's drama (pre-thunderstorm) was a batch of doughnuts that came out of the oven more akin to pancakes, nevertheless dusted in cinnamon sugar. I’m letting my knotted wrist rest after an afternoon of furious crocheting, having set myself a deadline for the 4th of July to finish my first project; a blanket.

The dog begins to bark furiously as Justice pulls into the driveway in our beat-up little Pontiac. He climbs out, the hinges screech as he swings the driver's door shut, he then dutifully pulls the bins out to the curb. The dog is beside herself watching this level of activity from him, forever playing a game of “will he or won’t he come inside?”

As he makes his way up the driveway she launches herself from the window sill and bounds for the front door, he greets her and matches her excitement. Scruffing her head and teasing her. 

He takes his shoes off and turns his attention to the office, where I’m sitting at my desk. He hovers in the doorway full of glee, reporting how his PokemonGo walk at three different local parks went. The humidity left with the storm, giving my husband an airy evening out that has left him glowing. 

He moves on to tell me about his plans for the evening, we agree to meet on the couch at about 7 for risotto, an episode or two of What We Do in the Shadows and cuddles with the dog. 

The world around us has felt heavy and backwards this last month. 

We’ve hemmed and hawed over where to put down roots next. Despite some glaringly obvious cons about where we currently live, I find myself already getting nostalgic about aspects of living here.

Things like the pencil-shaving-shaped leaves dancing at the bottom of the local pool during my afternoon swim, catching and releasing baby geckos that sneak into our kitchen before the dog spots them and the way the light hits our living room at around 8:15 on a clear night all come to mind.

I tend to develop this romanticism when I spend a good amount of time somewhere. Apartment living was somewhat short-lived for me, but I remember this exact feeling when I packed up my old studio. I felt like I was leaving a part of myself behind as I boxed up my paints and headed for the city.

The comfort about this eventual next jump is that we’re taking our quirks, our routines and our traditions with us. Much like how there are things I love about my old studio and current house, there will be new things to swoon over in the future too. 

For all the terrible politicians and awful things that continue to go on in this world, there are good things within our own worlds to take note of too. In my case, that means taking the time to get a little starry-eyed over grackles in my garden and playing with geckos on the window. 

This month, I urge you to inspect your life and find the persistent little nuggets of good.

Food For Thought

"Real generosity towards the future lies in giving all to the present."
— Albert Camus

"I alone cannot change the world but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples."
— Mother Theresa

"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves."
— Henry David Thoreau