i remember a time when we looked forward to the days of summer, of roaming through pine-scented forests, of climbing wildflower-strewn mountaintops and finding white sand, pristine beaches while searching for the clearest of azure seas to swim in.  summertime meant the freedom of vacation and the glory and release of traveling to places filled with magic and joy… but not today, on this summer’s day.  today, i sit here, immersed in a struggle again for words, hoping that from somewhere a spark will ignite and surpass this dark silence of grief and will release these hands, this heart, into a familiar and comforting place, where hobbling together sticky strands and filament-thin threads of words to climb out upon made sense.  in the past, solace has been found here, amid the disorder and the chaos of life’s twists and winding paths….but this has been a summer of death, of accidents unresolved, bringing loss and impacting finances; a time of near-hopelessness; another time of questioning justice in an unjust world; a time of forgetting to breathe and a time of transience of spirit and strength.   july was not kind in its takings, ravaging those of tender heart who have already had an inordinate amount of loss early in youth from the insidious pandemic that stripped us of our youthful families in their prime.  death in itself is never kind–or fair—in its robbing, and the old tricks that once sustained us for renewal and belief in an afterlife that reunited us all again have faded.   this is a state of being, a fragile time and age where our own abilities to put one foot in front of the other in the attempt to fill each gaping, untenable hole with something other than disbelief and overwhelming, debilitating sadness, lessens with each waking hour.  twice in one lifetime, we have been forced to become old-hands at the art of death and dying, loss and grief and bouncing back into a semblance of what is perceived as “normal”.  no, july and perhaps this entire year (or has it been years now?) so far has not been kind and has challenged our strength of being.   our bones are weary, we are aching for peace of mind instead of the constant struggle to stand again while dodging blow after blow.  someone said today, “you are strong, you have been through worse times, more difficult times, and have bounced back and gotten through it”.   those words brought to mind an old memory of a deflated crimson ball in the corner of an old childhood schoolyard by the sea…and today, at the beginning of this, the last month of summertime,  i am simply…..exhausted…