The lingering heat of summer has our brains all fuzzy. The thoughts we reach for seem to crumble just out of our grasp, drifting away like so many bits of dandelion fluff before we can pin them down into something tangible. Everything moves a little slower when the mercury climbs above 90, including our brains. But rather than getting frustrated, punishing ourselves for a lack of productivity and a to-do list of items still unchecked, we try to embrace the little moments: the smell of eggs scrambling on the stove, the ray of sunshine through a bedroom curtain, the teary laughter that only occurs between very old, very dear friends. There will be time, for all the secret hopes we whisper to the dark. Here is a little inspiration. There’s no need to rush.
Art: “Untitled” (1966), Norman Lewis
Poem: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” T.S. Eliot
Book: Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar, Cheryl Strayed