Saturday Morning Post Vol. 58


4th of July weekend. The lake is wild today, white caps topping the waves like thick oil paint. The water itself is nearly three different colors, dark grey, green, and bright blue, as if the wind is mixing the water up and dividing it.

Back across the road, they are setting up a carnival. Rides and games and food trucks now cover half of a green field. Some rides are already spinning, all metal and lights and bright colors.

In the evening tomorrow, the other side of the green field will be covered with people setting up their blankets and lawn chairs to see the fireworks over the lake.

We won’t be going there this year, but I remember going every year as I kid. I remember getting cotton candy sometimes. I remember playing badminton or frisbee as the evening slowly faded into night. I remember the late drive home, the longest chunk of it just being getting out of parking as hundreds of cars all begin to pull out at once. 4th of July dinner is also always something special. Barbecue chicken and corn on the cob.


It’s a stormy feeling kind of day; warm and wet. The clouds are thick with no break in them, and the grass looks extra green from last night’s rain. It makes me want to hike through the woods, wander on an open trail past a marsh.

There’s a quietness to the day, the sense of a return to the ordinary after a storm.


A familiar sensation just on my fingertips
a memory I can’t recall
I sit in the summer sun, feeling like I’ve been here before
there were thoughts I had or books I read
moments that passed under the same blue sky
I don’t remember when, and I don’t remember where

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