This summer makes me feel like I must be very lucky, to have a life like this.
I sort of feel like there is nothing better than building a fire, the smell of smoke. I feel like winter will never come again, like it isn't real. It's a white washed place where I keep memories so that they stay frozen and clean. Twinkling lights and the soft hiss of a vaporizer. A cough coming from the hallway.
We put food coloring in water balloons and froze them. It was one hundred degrees, and we had colorful globes of ice to play with. We carried them on a sled. It is summer, finally, in my heart.
I feel like maybe I dream you. Glitter and tiny houses with crumbling roofs. Black-brown eyes with tiny squares of light, reflecting the sun in the window. I feel like these quiet afternoons, while the baby sleeps in her dark, air-conditioned room, are when we really belong to each other. I let you choose how we spend our time. You're a scientist.
You said to me, "Isn't it weird that we're all in outer space? We just can't feel it because we're stuck on the earth."
I said to you, "You're so smart. You're the smartest girl who ever lived."