The Heat Came Back and I Just Let It

The window has been open since about seven. I didn't plan that, I just woke up, walked to the kitchen, and realized the air coming in felt different. Not the cold-different of March that I kept hoping was spring and wasn't. Actually different. Summer different. The kind of heat that settles on your arms like it's staying.

I made coffee. I stood at the window. I didn't do anything for a while and I didn't feel bad about it, which is maybe the first time that's happened in a while. Gerald was doing his thing on the sill, there's another new leaf coming in, I don't know when that happened, I stopped watching and he just kept going. He's the most reliable thing in this apartment and he requires nothing from me except I think I'm supposed to water him occasionally.

There's something about the first week of June that feels like a held breath finally releasing. The semester is done. The draft that I was not going to talk about is now a thing that exists in the world, and the world has been very quiet about it, and that is fine, that is actually ideal. I didn't publish it for the world. I published it for the specific, small, strange reason that it needed to exist outside of my head. It does now. Gerald put out a new leaf. I made more coffee.

Gerald, thriving as always.

I sat on the floor under the window for a long time this morning just because the light was good there. No particular reason. That's the whole post, honestly. Sometimes summer shows up and the best thing you can do is sit on the floor in it.

Somewhere between awake and actually functioning.