a weekend home in indianapolis preparing for my sister's wedding made my head spin. so many decisions made with clear-headedness and calm, though. impressive. i make no promises that i'll behave in the same manner. it's daunting to think of starting that process.

maybe i'll just shower first.

alright.

here's where i sit. my kitchen table. round, white, new-old. mason jar full of iced coffee. a plant rescued and nurtured back to health, sunglasses, a journal, a phone, fruit, basil flowers in a small vase with water.

here's where i am. my kitchen in brooklyn. crooked, humid, full of color. two fans blow on me, one cat looks at me. the sound of showering, peppered by the occasional chainsaw down below.

here's what's happening. the beginning of the end of a long-short summer, hot, sticky, fast, full of commitments and planning and parties and decisions. i wonder if i can simplify things? i wonder if it's possible to have an actual summer anymore. maybe we should just start calling it "that time of the year that's hotter than the rest of the year."

i don't wish this summer different, but i wish for the next one to be simpler. i like simple.

the future of my avocado plant is uncertain, but i still keep watering it.