Summer heat

     The sun was relentless as I tried to get some outside work done. Each breath was like inhaling steam from hell itself. My movements were paced so I didn’t pass out, as I have done before. Constantly drinking water before it starts to boil in the bottle. This isn’t fit weather for man or beast as my dog who usually jumps with excitement at the mere mention of going outside, now hides from me under the safety of the kitchen table. I believe I’m going to mount headlights on my lawnmower and wait until darkness creeps down with the temperature to attempt cutting the grass. The neighbors will love that. Summer in Florida is a place most don’t want to be which is evident with the flow of traffic heading north on ninety-five escaping the months of living hell, only to return in November when the living is bearable. I have grown to hate the summer here I feel like a prisoner trapped in my house only going out when the sky is dark, and I can breathe. Choice I made many years ago now except for a few blessings a decision I wish someone would have talked me out of. I believe my writing suffers in the summer as my only thoughts are staying cool and hoping my air conditioner doesn’t take its last breath. I don’t ask God for a winning lottery ticket as he has more important things to address, but if I did win I would say goodbye to this swamp and head north on ninety-five to a mountain somewhere where the air is crisp and cool and being outside would be the norm. But I won’t win the lottery and doubt my books will ever be best sellers. I will exist here until my ashes are scattered and I am but a memory and a picture hanging on a few walls. Sweet lord please don’t let them scatter me in hot water, wait until December.
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