SUMMER TIME AND THE LIVING IS SWEATY

My first summer in KCMO, I kept walking around saying “This is great!” while everyone else was wilting around me. “It’s not the heat. It’s the humidity.” they’d whine. My response would be “I love it! I’m a hot house flower! Bring on the steam!” I had lived thirty something years through dry one hundred and ten degree summers. The humidity felt like a spa treatment. The first warm day in my house, I went to turn on the AC only to realize I did not have AC, I shrugged but called my landlord. He installed a window unit and I lived with this for years not bothered one bit by the unit’s inability to cool my entire house. My brother was talking about the impossibility of living off grid because of the need for AC. I told him that I think there’s a guy in NYC who lives off grid. Then my brother said “Well, you don’t need an air conditioner in NY.” I shook my head and said “Au contraire mon frere.” (I’m learning French!) Summer in New York City is brutal. While we were having this conversation, it was actually hotter in NYC than it was in MO.

Each year, as the human impact on this planet increases the planet’s temperatures, I’ve started to notice how uncomfortable our summers with all that humidity have gotten. Now, I understand completely what it was that everyone was whining about. It is uncomfortable and for the first time in a long time, the heat/humidity leaves me motivated for nothing more than a lounge chair and a drink with ice in it. I want to ride my bicycle to work, but good lordy, all I can think of is the ride home in the evenings. I wear layers to work because parts of my office are meat locker temperatures, but how many layers can I get away with stripping off my body before it becomes inappropriate? I suppose, technically, my lack of clothing is a you problem or social construct problem, but I also don’t have enough bike storage to carry all the extra layers I will peel off of my body.

We spent the weekend with my brother and sister-in-law at their cabin near Branson and the whole lead up to this trip was filled with dread over the temperature. Michael and I were testing out new tents. Mine turns my car into a camper, while his is small enough to carry on his bicycle. We’ve decided that camping trips do not need to involve the two of us sleeping in the same tent. This set up also allows for more flexibility. He can do trips alone. I can do trips alone. We can do trips together. He can ride his bicycle to a campground and I can meet him there. I’m trying to figure out if I can fit my bicycle with my camp gear in the car. Most likely no, but maybe later on I can get a bike rack. Anyway, this was our weekend for testing. We each had to set up our tents without help from each other and once I figured out where to attach the tent to my car, I had shelter. The rest of the time, I thought for sure would be spent just sitting around in pools of our own sweat, flicking ticks off of ourselves.

It was relatively nice temps this weekend. Which was a pleasant surprise.

We did do a lot of tick flicking. Ticks are bad, people. Protect yourself! I have a harder time doing that since I am allergic to DEET. I feel lucky that I ended our weekend with only two tick bites. That’s how bad it is out there. While we were doing all this tick flicking, we were also laughing. A lot. I can honestly say that this last weekend was probably the nicest weekend I’ve had with the two of them since we moved Mom. It made me realize how strained we’ve all been. I think all three of us struggle with not just finding the time, but navigating how to visit with our mom. We have gone from spending day(s) at a time with Mom to spending hours at a time with Mom. But also the dynamic of those visits are different because most of the time it is only one of us there. Visits with Mom are not like what the three of us are used to after years of family meals on Sundays. The three of us are navigating our way through our own feelings around all of this and this has left us with little time for just being present with each other.

It was nice to spend a weekend together in a way that we used to spend time together. Familiar. Comforting. We barely mentioned our mother. And we laughed in the way we used to laugh with each other. This was probably the best medicine I could have asked for.