It seems that there is a life after July: it's called August. One way or another, I'm going to beat this heat. Sticking my head in the freezer is becoming a standard traditional everyday occasion. Nothing scary to think about here. Just me and my freezer. The rains that used to wonder in, don't know any better. And even if they do, the steaming afterwards effect turns into a nice facial. August has always been the pinnacle of heat. The summer that has already established itself is a ticking hydrogen bomb. No swagger required. Ash and debris at no extra charge. They say that tropical storm Emily will bring a boatload of rain this weekend. I can only pray harder every day. Turn that light off every chance you get, but keep the flame within your heart burning like a summer campfire. Slow it down and make it last awhile. Slowly burning embers. Fireflies on the back porch. Light my fire and I will bring you warmth. Say my name, and I will grant you peace. Follow my heart, and I will call you my son. We often agree on where we want to be. Don't stop. He will be there for you. For me. For eternity.
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