and how they sometimes back up in the brain, preventing the flow of ideas. There’s a fricking Hoover Dam inside my head, and not just in the usual word-block way. This summer has been rough for a lot of people in my life, including me, and the continuing bad news has helped construct a large part of the stoppage. Health issues, relationships problems, unexpected expenses (you ever have those pop up like weeds in what you thought was a neat little garden patch of a personal economy? Yeah.)
And it’s been so damned hot for days on end, and the destroyed crops and dried up lakes and streams have given a sepia tone to what is usually the lushest time of the year. Wildfires have consumed homes–not just of people but of forest creatures as well–and smoke has made the air hard to breathe.
I’ve been stumbling along, trying to achieve steady-as-she-goes again. I’d like to report that my unwavering cheer has brightened the days of all around me, but though I try, I’m an Amy, not a Beth (I’ve might have squirreled away some of those breakfast goodies before I got to the Hummels’ hovel.) One foot in front of the other, things will get better, we all go through rough patches–these have been my mumbled mantras.
And then July 20th, my late mother’s birthday, actually: People who had looked forward to the new Batman movie went to a theater in Aurora to see it and some of them were killed and others were wounded for making that choice. Because of sheer bad luck they crossed paths with a maniac who’d been collecting guns and ammo and decided to crawl out of his hole to make his presence known. God only knows why. Reams of news reports will try to nail down every detail so we can know why, and books will be written and the ongoing arguments about gun control will go on. We’re already haunted here in Colorado, and we know how this will play out.
I’m left with a river of words backed up in my head, a river of sorrow and rage and frustration and soul-deep fatigue. I’m so sorry for the blameless people who just wanted to enjoy a movie. I grieve for their friends and families who are going through hell. I grieve for all of us who struggle to understand another of these obscene events.
I want this summer to be over and for rain to fall on parched land and for the air to be clean of smoke. I want there to be peace in the land. I want the dammed up words to flow again.