It's Hot Up Here

from here

The heat 

Strangely nostalgic
Reminds me of childhood summers 

Dripping icy poles
Lemonade sticky on the pavement
Memories of going to school
In the height of summer
No hat, no play
Between 11 and 3 stay under a tree
Sunscreen on the teacher's desk
Later. New year's eve. Sitting by the harbour in the shade and still turning the shade of cooked lobster.
Aloe vera in the fridge

The intense HOT
Like living in an oven
I expect the air to explode at any moment
Wait for the air to be thick and hazy red with smoke
To see small delicate wispy ash float through the air
Evidence of burning somethings in the near distance

Abuela burning strawberry oil
To mask the smokey smell
Years later
The same oil
Giving me nightmares
Of fleeing
Of homes being burnt to the ground
Of the world I know being reduced to 

Hazy hot red

But in Connecticut
It's just hot
I'm promised that forest fires are rare here
It rains too often for the world to combust
Every 4th July
I watch the bonfire
And nervously trace glowing embers
Dancing in the air
And pray they won't set the trees alight

Summers in Australia
Mean total fire bans
Because raging bush fires
Destroy entire communities
My year 8 teacher lost everything
Except the clothes on his back
And I always wondered
How does one start from scratch

But like 

Phoenix rising

The heat rejuvinates

Replenishes

The Australian bush

Designed to explode

In order for new growth 

I thrive in the heat

Cold makes me shrivel

Shake

And feel down

In the heat

I feel expansive

Free

Shorts, singlets, and flip flops 

("Thongs" where I come from

Five American summers have drilled 

The colloquialism from my head) 

Walking and working in the heat

Is tiring

And wonderful

The end. 

Firefly

by Red Dragon Goodness

One moment you are working in London

And feeling frustrated 

And miserable

And you blink

And you are walking across northern rural Spain

And you blink

And you are back in London

And riding on the tube

And it is always winter

And cold

And you are always wearing a thousand layers 

And you feel you could never be warm again

And twenty-four hours without sleep

And two plane trips later

You are back in America

And it is June

And it is summer! 

Oh summertime

I have missed you! 

To walk outside

Without endless layers 

Scarves and beannies and gloves

Just shorts and a t-shirt

And flip flops 

Is bliss

To be back with my love

And to have returned to the cabin in the woods

Sitting on the porch

Watching a storm swirl by

The way the leaves flutter

The way the tall trees bend and wave with the whirling wind

To see lightning flash the sky

And hear thunder crashing

Feeling its rumble in the earth

And in the evening

To sit on the same porch

And smell earth and trees

Blessed by rain

And watch fireflies flicker in the forest

The sparkle of their little luminescents   

Like tiny twinkling fairy lights 

Feels like a delicious dream

And you’re glad you’re here

The end. 

Go West

Imagine Two-years-ago-me
Sitting in her room
In suburban Sydney
Wishing hoping for something different
And following Amy Krouse Rosenthal
And being inspired by what she had to say
Her interactive works of art
And flashmobs and acts of kindness and moments centered around
The Bean, Chicago.
And finding
Today Me
Sitting on the grass opposite
The Bean, Chicago
And feeling like
Oh. My. Goodness. Look where we have come!

And sitting in the public park
On a glorious late summer's day
And people watching
There's a family on a picnic blanket
Mom and two sons
All reading books,
There's a grown-up mother and daughter
Just lounging on the grass
Looking up at the sky, the clouds, the shimmer of trees
The mother has white hair and permanent wrinkles around her mouth
The daughter has brown hair and similar, though less pronounced wrinkles,
And every so often the daughter turns her head to her mother.
There's a mother and baby,
The baby is old enough to sit up on her own, but not yet old enough to be forming words
She can hear the band in the distance, but can't quite figure out where the sound is coming from.
The music excites her and she points to the sky and smiles and exclaims,
"Oh!"
She toddles around on the grass, smiles shyly at strangers who smile at her, and occasionally stops to bop along to the distant music-
She is distracted by another baby, a boy a few months older than her,
He is oblivious to her existence but she smiles and waves at him anyway,
"Look at us! We. Are. So. Clever!"

And then finding Today-Me
Sitting in a car
With a patient, loving boy
Driving across the vastness that is America
And seeing all the corn and soybeans and giant billboards
And literally driving into the most glorious of sunsets
Where the sun is an impossible giant orange ball

And suddenly you are in Colorado
And there are mountains in the west
And the streets are wide
And the sky is so incredibly blue
And bands are playing in the small parks
And the lady who sells chocolate honey at the farmer's market is an actual witch
Who knows how to brew concoctions that taste like heaven
And the man from the winery is willing with his samples
And the fruit tastes so good you can't believe you ever lived without it
And you breathe in the warm dry air
And you wonder
What is next on the adventure?

The end.

I Know What We Did Last Summer

This summer
I ran rehearsals and taught singing lessons
And led a meditation session in the Igloo overlooking the forest.
I worked and played and hung out with the most wonderful people.
We sang Persichetti and Handel and Traditional and Anonymous.
We read sheet music and improvised and played by ear.
We ate cookies and mac and cheese and pizza and toasted sandwiches
And gobbled up the fresh fruit like we would never see it again.
We stargazed and ran through cooling rain and shivered through raging storms.
I did office duty
And counseled homesick kids
And had long d&m's with campers
I sat in on the Philosophy Club and discussed the existence of god and morality and ego.
I stayed up for late night techs
And got up early to make sure the keyboard was ready for rehearsals.
I helped to stage
6 music concerts
2 musicals
And 1 peace night
And I managed to write my thesis.
I discovered I have more skills than I thought
I relished in what I still have to learn.
I had a tough summer. I had a wonderful summer.
It was emotional and inspiring and exhausting and blissful all at once.
And at the end, I packed up the car with my boy
And drove off, literally into the sunset,
Heading west for the next adventure,
Having no idea what is next.
The end.

Once on This Island

(With thanks to prima guapa Rachel)

From Boston to Hyannis and 

Across then across the water 

To the island of Nantucket.

I’ve been here in the summer, late spring, and winter,

I’ve seen soft pink roses climbing up the trellises and walls

I’ve seen icicles dripping off the picket fences

I’ve been here before it’s warm enough to swim

And hot enough to brave the chilly water.

I’ve cycled down to the beach

And sat on the warm sand

And fed myself hot chips,

I’ve sat on the deck at the brewery 

When the sky was bright blue

And the sun was warm

And the local wines were flowing.

I’ve sat in the Bean when the weather outside was biting cold and played Scrabble and drunk hot chocolate,

I’ve sung in the church choir at Christmas

And stood in my tita’s impossibly tiny kitchen and 

Learnt to bake American style Christmas treats, 

Sugar cookies, lemon love notes and chocolate truffles 

I’ve built gingerbread houses covered in candy 

And danced the chicken dance on New Year’s Eve.

I’ve walked down Main Street countless times

To the beautiful home of my Titos de Nantucket.

I’m not just a mainland tourist

I’m family,

And the familiar (haha!) lovely welcoming warmth of it

Is comforting.

The island may seem idyllic, 

It is indeed beautiful,

But being here over several visits over the past few years

I know it is a place where people live their lives.

There is joy and heartache and work and life

Just like any other place,

But today I sat on the wharf

With my book

And I watched the boat ferrying my prima back to Boston 

Head out of the bay

And I sent her a message to remind her to throw two pennies overboard

To ensure she will return

And the sun was warm

And the water was shimmering

And I smiled my thank you to the beach

That I can be here

And feel like I’m ever welcome 

To share in the magic of the island

The end.