It wasn’t so long ago that I wrote a post about embracing where we are planted. When I wrote it, I truly believed that I had found contentment – that I was happy in my cluttered home, watching my children play in our yard and tending to our sometimes messy but always fulfilling life. Then July happened. Hot, steamy, stifling July. This is my least favorite month of the year. This is the month when my normally happy home turns into a hellish boiling pot of crankiness and discomfort. The floors and counters are glazed with humidity. The children are sticky with sweat and grass clippings. The dogs are drooling and panting. Bugs are out in force. Fruit and bread molds in what seems like minutes. It’s too hot to eat. Too hot to sleep.
I think back to that post. What was I thinking? I don’t want to be planted here in this inferno! I want to be planted in the North Pole (although I hear it’s getting pretty warm there, too!) I want out of this pollen haze and into a cool breeze speckled with salt.
Wanderlust has struck again. I take back what I said about embracing the opportunity to bloom where I’m planted. I’ll return to that frame of thinking at the end of August. For now, I want a good, stiff, breeze, 55 degree nights, and dappled sunshine. I want to breathe dry air. I don’t want to take three cold showers a day just to cool off. I don’t care if there are great white sharks parading along the coastline. I’ll take my chances. Just, please, give me a wide, empty beach with choppy waves and a sheet to rest my cranky self on.
Bloom where I’m planted? Not this month! I’ll try again in about five weeks!