June

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June. These days, it’s so hot that summer rains coax steam from the pavement, and that phrase, “You could fry an egg on the sidewalk” doesn’t seem so unrealistic. Aside from bodies of water, the only comfortable place to be is inside. But that seems like such a shame. The stream by the cotton gin is clear and cold and fit for wading, and downtown strolling is calling. The pizza parlor sells ice cream by the scoop that the sun melts in a minute’s time and leaves me more thirsty than cool, but there is something satisfying about it. White t-shirts, high-waisted cutoffs, and high tops – the outfit of June – are just the thing for hot temperatures and summertime escapades. They’re simple like summer should be.

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You and Her

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Summer shows herself in popsicles. And although the river is low, you can still reach the water if you stretch far enough. Just remember to take off your socks. There are apartments down the road with rows of rope hammocks, perfect for you and a friend, and trees on your campus, perfect for climbing and falling and attracting a crowd. She tells the grassy fields to sprout dandelions just for you, and even though the railroad bridge is doused in her showers, it is still good for climbing. This is how she shows herself. In five dollar fried chicken lunches and thrifted outfits and friends who photograph them and that story you tell people about that time a stranger gave you a ferret against your will. She thrives in beautiful places and people to share them with. In songs and in the quiet moments. But mostly, when you see her, it is in laughter and in light. And some days, like today, that’s all you really need to know about the universe.

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-Lauren