It's still hot and humid here on the Carolina coast (and will be for awhile), but if you watch carefully you will notice a shift in the way the light slants at the end of the day, and it's not unusual for a cool breeze to waft by when you least expect it. Back-to-school sales are in full swing and high school football teams are doing two-a-days; the slow wind-down of summer has started.
Back before Liam, this was always the time of year when I would get the baby blues. I would wake up one day in early August and find myself in tears and spend most of the next couple of weeks absolutely bereft, longing for a child that I had, in my heart of hearts, given up on ever having. But even after the totally unexpected but very welcome blessing of becoming Liam's mother, I still find myself melancholy in August, longing for something just out of reach, unable to put a name to it but feeling its absence keenly.
This year there seems to be an extra element of something, a vague dissatisfaction that lurks around every corner of my life, making me question choices long since made and trying to see the path before me that once seemed crystal clear. Often I find myself on the verge of tears for no explainable reason, other than I just feel such a sadness that crying seems to be the only sensible reaction. I truly believe the quote at the top of this page, The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea. I hold that like a talisman, knowing there is real truth in those words, but honestly, the salt water of tears is not what I need right now. They seem to act as some sort of cosmic Krazy Glue, keeping me firmly in the place I least need to be.
Last week I wrote about some of the things that are going on, and of my first reaction, which is always to head to the sea. But almost as soon as I saved the post, a thunderstorm erupted and I didn't get my walk on the beach, and I haven't managed to make time for it since. I feel pulled in about a thousand different directions, like some sort of mutant starfish with arms pointing every which way.