July is passing on swift wings in a blur of amber sunsets, philosophical midnight conversations, sultry, lazy days, and not nearly enough hours… July 4th was the fourth anniversary of my husband's death; it came and went with family and friends, fireworks, and an impossibly odd triple rainbow that loomed above the mountains for longer than it should have.
I have been reading to pass the time; Stephen King's new novel (Lisey's Story) began with a lazy crawl and ended in a death roll — I wouldn't expect anything less from King, the eccentric jewel. I've also become, thanks to several documentaries and extensive court case documents, a supporter of the West Memphis Three. As usual, I throw in decent amounts of medical fodder for good measure; cardiology and critical care still excite me the most. Last week I took a break from books and took a day trip to a local amusement park with the kids and rode rollercoasters until 11pm. I've always been an adrenaline junkie; I am the same wild child that earned a herniated cervical disc last summer while rapelling at Cooper's Rock. It still bothers me occasionally; but that's okay. Pain is proof that I'm alive.
This weekend I'll be making yet another trip home to Virginia; my brother will be turning 30 on July 27. My son will be 14 on July 29. Cecil will be there for the party, as well as other friends, old and new.
Tonight, however, the usual goings on of my house abound — Disney channel is on, as it usually is. One of the kids made popcorn a bit ago; I can still smell it. Conner is sleeping on my bed in all his 6 month-old fuzzy puppy glory. Coco is sleeping in his cage under a blanket; if I peek in, I can see him perched on one scaly parrot leg, his head turned backward and tucked under ruffled green feathers. Sometimes he'll hear me peeking, open one lazy eye and say "hi." As for me, I seem to seek solitude when the sun goes down. I often sit out back in my own personal Margaritaville and listen to the whispers of my soul.
I never hear anything I didn't already know, but reflection is always cleansing.