This July porch morning, sitting and sweating, I remember something from my teenage years. I push it out of my mind and try to slow my heart rate. I keep reaching for a collar to tug on or a sleeve to stretch, but it’s July. I’m on my private porch in my private scandal. This memory has me twitching and flustered in my skin, suffocating under what feels like layers of winter clothing. I stand up to get air, goosing my neck out to the sky, but my mind slips back into the nauseating wool and polyester. Get them off! Jesus! Jesus! I spend too many quiet moments dodging these itchy, suffocating memories.
I make myself sit back down and wear the damn memory like a sweater—in the middle of July.
That particular July, a healing breeze came, and I summoned memory after memory, smiling and giggling with myself with no tugging or shame.
Note to self:
Remember the great with the good and the good with the bad. Do not let the past lie to you, Jack. Learn to enjoy your young self, your yesterday self. And listen, don’t you worry if you find yourself laughing amid the dark things—comedy is a terribly serious thing.