The ocean marked us this year with ink more permanent than all the others put together. The sun was bright on the east coast. Even the rainy days seemed to weep salt.
My little girls defined themselves. My oldest pierced her nose. My middle tantrumed her way across night fields only to find herself surrounded by fireflies. She decided she was a firefly and it tamed her, somehow. The baby's hair grew long and for the first time in her whole four years she felt the wind blow through it. I felt the wind in my hair too. I'd forgotten how it felt.
My marriage broke apart and then came back together with a stronger glue and stranger love. We decided, he and I, that peculiar suits us more than normal. We're breathing pink again.
I didn't write. I crocheted and swam and cooked. I noticed the world I've created with my hands and my body.
But now? Summer is over. September is here and bright and cool.
And I'm back.