hide and seek
the botanical gardens in birmingham, across the street from our apartment complex.
The sun keeps hiding behind the clouds. It’s come out every once in awhile. And I keep thinking the day is going to stay sunny. Then it disappears again. Last night as I was heating canned green beans on the stove and sprinkling cheese dust over Kraft macaroni noodles, I listened to the waterfall of rain over Birmingham. Lighting flashed out of the corner of my eye and thunder rattled our windows. It’s stormed so much this summer — one of the lovely privileges of calling Alabama home. I can’t believe it’s already August. For the last four years, this has been the most exciting part of the year: after having driven for about four days, the Texas desert suddenly becomes dotted with trees, bushes and grass. More and more green takes over the landscape and soon you can hear the bugs that inhabit all that green. As we roll into Arkansas, the trees stretch high up and the air is sticky. Adrenaline and excitement pump through my veins as I anticipate seeing friends for the first time in months, starting a new year.
I suppose this August will be different, though. I’m not missing Alabama like I normally do.
As I pack up my life once again to move it back down to Tuscaloosa, I’m reflecting on the incredibly fast summer we had.
