angels lead you in

Disaster strikes first, then the calm, and then the beauty. Just like summer thunderstorms. The impending clouds can only mean foundation-shaking thunder, on edge electricity, sheets of sideways rain, winds that swirl you into confusion. It breaks loose and drenches the earth. It passes as soon as it comes, leaving the leaves on the trees sparkling with heavy raindrops. The world is bathed in a sense of fresh calm, clean. Here lies the in between; the moment of eery, calm silence between darkness and beauty. The birds begin to chirp again, along with the crickets and bull frogs, returning to normalcy.

He gives you a disaster to survive, then a fresh perspective. You go through the trials and come out alive on the other side. He gives you the escape again, the one thing you've been craving for so long. A positive outlet that allows for that quiet, joyous connection. It's the place where you find him most. He gives you the wings you lack again. It's all coming together now.

Indian Summer

Give me my Indian Summer, where the air is thick with heat that smothers everything else. It's full of warmth, the hot sun on tanned arms covered in freckles. It's a time to forget everything you have been remembering. A time when there's nothing but the heat, the heat, sweat pours off your brow. The time in late summer when you've all but forgotten school for the sweet smell of freshly mowed grass, summer air rolling in your open window, flooding the rolled down windows of your car like a hurricane, stirring up your hair and practically drowning out the radio. A time to forget, to get lost and stay there for a while. You lose track of time during those days of brutal heat, what day it is even anymore. Sometimes I just like to forget and reminisce, let the nostalgia set in, hard. Because your best memories of those Indian Summers date back to 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999. Indian coins in the ground, the hobbit trail, the tall fence, the deep end, the diving board, the witch's cauldron, Jurassic Park, Robin Hood, the basement, treasure maps, the cul-de-sac. Your life ended, yet another one has extinguished; so much loss in so short a time. I want my Indian Summer now.