Summer has arrived, after a peaceless winter and spring because of the loud and intrusive construction going on right across the street. No respite from noise for months, and now I have my incredibly loud air conditioners on. On the one hand, they drown out the construction, but on the other hand I can never turn them off to get a break. The constant hum and whirr is enough to drive me to madness, let alone knowing there is a hot, heavy, suffocating demon lurking right outside my door. This year I am trying to be zen about it. *Trying* Only three months of torment, but the other nine months of the year are bearable so I can do this, right? Before I know it time will pass and it will be fall again. Right???
I try to remember times in the summer that I enjoyed - trust me, there aren’t many. I lived in Phoenix off and on for a few years of my life, including the first part of junior high. I can’t even put into words how much I loathe that city and that state, truly, you couldn’t pay me to go back there. Not any amount. All that state holds for me is countless traumas that have scarred me deeply, both literally and figuratively. But there is one thing about that place that I don’t mind having pop into my consciousness now and again. It was the warm nights. Not like the warm nights here with the disgusting humidity, these were warm desert nights. Where even in the city back then there were large swatches of open space, full of dirt and prickly bushes, and yes, even tumbleweeds. Those late nights, sneaking out of my bedroom window to meet a boy friend or a boyfriend. That soothing feeling of the gentle, warm air against my skin. The soft breeze that it brought with it. The darkness of merely scattered streetlamps that had a distinctive orange hue, and god it was so fucking quiet. Yes, that is the one good memory I have of Arizona, and of summertime as a whole. When I close my eyes it’s like I am there, feeling that pleasant, midnight desert breeze in the quiet, memories that make my brain feel fuzzy like a glass or two of wine. Very few things could ever compare.