Return to normal & a collision of dreams

poppies, collage date, delphiniums

Mid-June and summer has, at least briefly, shown itself in my corner of the world. Picking up our car from my grandparents’ after the cruise, I was struck by how the garden had burst open, foxgloves keeping company with irises, the watermelon seedlings already inches above the dirt. The pumpkins, too, are so much bigger than expected, a testament to what a wet spring and then the sun rupturing through can do.

Since coming home, life has been a blur. It’s not that I’m doing too much—for the first time in what seems like forever, my time is my own—but that all the things I’m dreaming of keep splintering against each other. One day librarian, the next teacher, the next painter or novelist or poet. Gardener, barista, editor—they rival one another, glancing off each other’s edges, leaving me no clearer than I was before.

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