It has now come tothe time of hanging, stagnant heat. Approaching mid April, the temperatures are surpassing 90 degrees, butthe air conditioning in our apartment is not yet on. The screen door gapes, all three windows areopen, and two fans spin languidly. Todayis the first day a pleasant breeze has not been blowing. So the heat settles. Mid-afternoon was like a long summer day inthe Midwest; it seemed noise had stopped. The stillness surrounding me was surreal, andthe heat drew me into a restless sleep on my bed, waking only to the phone, apierce to the not-quite-summer day.
It is past six o’clock now and the sun stillhangs in the sky like a child refusing bed. Birds cheep-cheep, children laugh and chase outside, cars rumble downthe road. The world has awakened fromthe oppression. It is only earlyApril.
The heat of thedesert is sometimes agreeable, like being wrapped in a warm blanket with a cupof hot cocoa. Spending a summer in thehigh desert of Utah accustomed me to 85 degree days and30 degree nights, but a trip to St. George brought back the pleasantries ofhome.
“Thatthermometer just said it is 108 degrees. This is stifling.”
“Ilove it; it isn’t too hot yet.”
“Let’sget back into the car and the air conditioning; my feet are sticking to theasphalt.”
I could not putinto words how the heat made me feel alive again, the sun testing my skin tosee if it still functioned properly. Somehow, for that moment, I was happily hot. A few days now and I have had enough. But every so often, it feels just right.
No comments:
Post a Comment