Tonight the humidity broke and rain pattered down.
I'm in Victorville, in my old family home. There are suitcases everywhere. Tomorrow, we leave at the crack of dawn to make for Oklahoma in order to visit my brother, my sister-in-law, and my baby nephew who's just about to turn one. The rain is a wild card. Will we drive away from a summer storm or head straight into one? Will we encounter lightning, thunder, or tornadoes?
This trip to Oklahoma has been haunting my mind. Once I leave, who knows what I'll be able to accomplish? This week was my last chance to get it together, and I failed miserably. I had trouble just keeping up with my normal chores: editing The Changelings, writing Three Floating Coffins, blogging, cleaning, cooking, writing critiques, coloring cards, volunteering, answering email. Squished into the week was a trip to Griffith Park and a meeting of the Brea Library Writer's Club.
By the time I get home, half of August will be gone.
I still have so much to do to meet my summer goals.
But the time to fret and fuss is over. Nothing I can do, but take a deep breath and see where the next week rolls me. Pack the suitcases into the car. Listen to the rain. Feel the cool breeze blow through the windows.
Whether the skies are clear or stormy, off I go.