Lately when I cannot sleep memories slide into my head and linger like parasites sucking on hot and stifling summer nights. i find myself choking on the thick smell of honeysuckle and humidity and sticky skin. walking quickly down dark streets watching my skirt swish around my legs. my heart beating louder with each step and held breath until the next streetlamp. roadtrips sitting in lawn chairs that slid around in a green van. mass consumption of fried rice and beer in campgrounds.

Fast forward to the dark gleaming uneven wood floors, a cavernous cobalt bedroom with crooked windows and American spirits. my catta’s sliding around on green oriental rugs and perched on the doorframes, ready to swat. late nights with Anja and whiskey. early mornings with Ari, tea and coconut crackers. That was the summer that my father had a heart attack. that was the first night in over 20 years that my parents spent apart.

Last sunday my dad looked tired and worried. I look at him and see my grandmothers face and the thought of impermanency scares me. this is where faith would come in handy.

This summer has fallen kicking into my lap, begging for change.

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