prematurely grey

For my next trick, I will try to resurrect this blog. Has its time passed? Do I have anything clever left to say? Do I remember how to type?

I’ll say a couple of things quickly, to set the mood. I am sitting at the infamous table, looking out at a most unfamiliar site. The sky has clouded over and the bamboo is bending in the wind. If you don’t live in Austin, this may mean nothing to you.  Clouds. Wind. Outside. So what?

SO WHAT?

SO THE FUCK WHAT?

Among the 10,000 reasons I haven’t written a word in over two months (we’ll get to those later), first among reasons, king of the hill, top of the heap, A Number 1 is that this is the longest summer that I have ever lived through and it is barely half over.

If you think I am exaggerating, that’s right, you’re not from Texas.

I have to go turn down the radio. Excuse me.

I’m listening for thunder.

On a normal Monday, I’d be at the girls’ school right now, picking them up, gearing myself to go through the papers that come home in the weekly communication folder. But they have playdates and I thought I’d try my hand at being a writer again, so I’m sitting at my dining room table, straining to hear thunder.

The worst is the sinking feeling that it’s raining somewhere else. That rain is coming down in some other person’s side yard. That wind won’t bring the heavy cloud to my neighborhood. The sun is still peaking through. It’s not dark enough. We’ll stay dry.

As always, what I hate is the hope. It might rain. There’s a 40% chance. There’s wind. The sky’s overcast for the first time in weeks. I haven’t seen a rainy day since Chris’ mom’s family reunion in Long Island a month ago. And my friends weren’t there. The tired people who drive around Austin weren’t there. The people who can’t afford air conditioning weren’t there. Who am I to feel sorry for myself? How can I share that rainy day with the people who need it worse than I do?
I went on a trip this summer that I’ve not been able to write about. I came home to a city so burnt out from living on the edge of drought that it seems to have gone dormant. School started early. The pool closed. The girls come home and I want to keep them inside, shaded and protected for another six weeks, when it might be alright to go back outside. I am drained and faded, like the garden I continue to neglect.

So, how do we start over in the middle of summer? There’s more blue sky to the south. The wind’s died down. I think the chance for showers has passed.