Suspended

 It's almost August. So far, normal Minnesota summer has been suspended. We are having an average of two thunderstorms a week. The thick air, sometimes fragranced with forest fire smoke, starts out heavy at 6am. The green is phenomenal; sumac, Oaks, Maples are massive; crisp green outlines are smeared on the horizon. Trees and branches have toppled from the combination of rain and wind.

I feel suspended too. I walk out my front door, bare feet hitting uneven pavement and look up at the pure blue of the morning sky. I was suspended in memory; a child, this feeling of seeing that pure blue expanse going on forever; calling forth my own chest opening expansion. I was free. I remember throwing my arms wide but my body couldn't express that powerful cracked open feeling. 

It was a rare event in my childhood home of San Francisco to see a blue sky in the morning. It's been a rare event to see one this summer. Somehow my brain made a connection, transporting me there and back. A visit from me; the child who ran and played and laid in the green grass without worry; wholly present. Thank you