Summer has a very distinct smell.
When I was a little girl, I thought it was a Beijing thing. Then I moved to Perth, LA, San Diego, and now in New York, summer smells the same everywhere. It’s this warm scent of ambiguous plants and fresh oxygen, mixed with a hint of rotten things.
I have this tattoo on my back: ”Within me there lies an endless summer.” Yes I’m a summer baby. I was born on the first day of summer. To me this time of year means adventure, lunacy, and perseverance.
It means home.
As I grow older, summer feeling also went from birthday excitement to aging anxiety; From endless long vacation days to staring out an office window. Summer has given me scars, physically and emotionally. But she’s also guided me on a better path, helped me become more mindful. Summer overwhelms me with layers of experiences and feelings.
Every summer has a story.
But August makes me feel anxious. It’s very similar to Sunday blues. When you realize that the most exciting chapter of year is closing to an end and you haven’t accomplished much. It’s the fear of running out of time, falling behind, and uncertainty.
And I just sit here, in my anxiety, soaking everything in without judgement. I make peace with the unpeaceful, and embrace the certainty of uncertainty. Twisted yet beautiful.
Just like summer.