Dear Bridget, Refuse to Sink

Dear Bridget,

Refuse to sink. It’s still sunny with a lot of clouds, but you know what? I can tell that summer is going to leave soon. That makes my heart feel like this ice cube that got stuck in my throat and I need to  cough it out, but I can’t. It’s this tight melancholy that stays and eventually hibernates in the dead of winter and then evaporates when summer reappears. This summer feels like a missed opportunity in a lot of ways. I wish I didn’t feel that way, but I do and I don’t like to lie about that. Today I got very panicky that my time has been wasted these past couple of months. That I didn’t do my best job of loving summer with my whole heart. I think though, that sometimes we fall down and we have to remember that as long as we pick ourselves back up, we’ve done the best that we can do. As long as we refuse to sink, we have done our job. This has been my least favorite summer, but here I am, still refusing to sink. And there you are, over in California, refusing to sink. We just won’t do it. Here are some of my most good moments from summer sixteen.

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I found out that some people are still good, because when they find power tools on their sidewalk, they staple an index card to a plant in their front yard in hopes that the power blower owner will come to their house and retrieve their power blower. This is something that a nice person would do, and it touched me.

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My girl Sarah moved into my house. She is my girl Friday. So far we have mostly watched the Bachellorette and it has mostly just been good for our collective souls. I have learned that I am not “above” watching reality television, and that there is a reason why it’s popular. It’s useless to be pretentious, I suppose.

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I have spent a whole lot of time with Moses. He is an at home cat. My favorite thing he does is when he sticks his tongue out at me. My least favorite thing is when he runs after me in the mornings before he has been fed and bites my ankles. I tell him “YOU KNOW I HATE IT WHEN YOU DO THAT”. You know this, because you can hear me when you have called me on your way to work.

 

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I felt happiest when you and I drove to the beach together. Being at this beach with you felt like packing up all of my cares and worries like little stones into a basket of a hot air balloon and watching them float up up and away  into the sky and just feeling the sand beneath my bottom and the sun all over my un-sunscreened skin.

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This is my boy’s kitten, as you know. I took this photo the day that I met him, and I still remember the way it felt. The sadness that I have, it had taken me over. And when I saw this little baby, I couldn’t have felt happier. His little baby body, his belly spots, his tiny meow, his little sleepy head; I just remembered that there are good things. Things that make it ok, things that remind you that you shouldn’t sink. That we should refuse to sink.

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Thank you, McD, for always letting me borrow your family. This day was easy and special and the cake tasted like relief, and everyone was happy. This is what summer looks like and I never want to celebrate July 4th on July 2nd with anyone else.

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Atlanta is known for its Peachtree streets, but I have spent my summer discovering peachtrees in the streets of my own neighborhood, which doesn’t have any peachtree streets. Just peach trees. The most recent peach tree that I have discovered is in my own side yard. I ate this one and saved the pit for planting.

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This summer I have spent a lot of time watching this particular dog poop. He lives across the street and when his mom and dad leave, I get to watch him poop. He usually poops three different times, in three different spots. He saves it up. I’ve done a lot of thinking in this back yard this summer, and I’ll be sad to see it go.

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Bridget, do you remember the woman and the man who had the four children variety pack? We saw them on the beach at Tybee. We couldn’t tear our eyes off of them. They were having a domestic dispute, and the oldest, little Roger, was watching the lot of babies. Do you remember? The lady had a lot of tattoos, do you remember?

She had a tattoo on her ankle, it said “Refuse to Sink”

And I just thought to myself, if a lady on the beach who is hitting her Lil Wayne-esque husband in public is refusing to sink, then so can we.

I will prefer to float, thank you very much. Will you float with me?

Love you more than that watermelon sangria we had at McDonoughs,

Mabel

 

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