a double #augustbreak: miracles and dirt

Sunday it rained. It was practically a miracle, after the stifling heat of the summer. And it was one of those bright (if brief) rains, and for just a few minutes everything was better.

Then I got some news about a death in the family back home, and I couldn’t post this picture because nothing was really better after all and I did not care about Things and everything felt dumb and I said it’s a Break, August Break, and no1curr if I do not post a photo today. And we watched NASA do its thing in the middle of the night and I teared up, I did, about everything.

And then there was today and two sets of gardening gloves and a good full-body soreness (just wait until tomorrow…) and I was just glad to be alive and able to take in the world. To see photos from Mars and Myron at the other side of the table are both miracles in their own way.

#augustbreak: nightmoon

The days with Myron home are rare and precious. Humidity still blankets the city, but we took a walk in the dark, listening to the hum of bugs and a thousand air conditioners and cars blowing past on Hazeldean.

The to-do list grows longer, and then shorter, and then longer again. A drumbeat below everything reminds me of the date, points out every cute house in our hoped-for neighborhood that gets sold before we get a chance to make an offer, wonders when things will be all done here. When I get overwhelmed, I remember this: It only feels like pressure.

#augustbreak: strange bedfellows

When you pack to move, you always wind up with some random boxes full of things that don’t really go together. In this one, I’ve got the box Onyi gave me last Christmas (now packed full of recipes)—with the black drawstring bag full of perfumes, my light box, and my Doors box set. It’s a box for hedonism, with a little something for the morning after.

#augustbreak: le freak, c'est chic

My laptop’s power cable (not even a year old!) chose this frantic time to shut down. Commence freakout. Thankful for my backup hard drive and for Dropbox for saving my bacon (and all my files).

#augustbreak: valediction

Amanda talked today on Twitter about her blog having a case of the tumbleweeds, but mine has been even worse. (So grateful for Laura’s panzanella for brightening up the place.) And I really would like to write a better post telling you more about actual stuff that happened in the past few months, but instead everything looks like this: boxes and things where they’re not supposed to be and the long list of things we always meant to spruce up around here that are now being spruced for whoever buys the house from us.

If you couldn’t tell, a month of upheaval is as good a time as any for August Break. Last year, this project threw my writing mojo for a loop and I never quite bounced back. This year, I’m in the opposite situation—instead of blogging too often, I haven’t been blogging enough. Last year I didn’t dare to say a tenth of what was pushing at my throat. This year, I’ve been ready to speak but haven’t had the time… or energy, when the time came to me. Last year, I was holding all my friends at arm’s length, not knowing if I’d scream or cry or laugh or where I would be living by the time fall set in. This year, I am loved, joyfully, resiliently, and fearlessly. And I know where home is and who lives there.

This August I turn 39 and I submit my home, my sanctuary, to the abacus eyes of real estate agents and prospective purchasers. Every decision represents a dollar that will go toward our new house. This August is not just documenting the everyday of a summer month—it’s saying goodbye to the home where Myron and I were newlyweds. I haven’t lived in one place this long since I first left home at eighteen. It’s grown around me like a shell. And shells crack open.