There’s this gnawing at the pit of my stomach that no summer ice cream cone can soothe.
It comes from knowing there’s mere weeks til school starts. Snow could actually fall at any time now. Bare feet are on notice.
I feel like I can’t cram in enough adventure. I can’t follow the ribbons of asphalt far enough. Instead of being stately and majestic, the mountains are crowding me and that voice inside my head is screaming that it’s not ready for a winter jacket.
In reality, what I’m really doing is wasting precious sunlit hours worrying about something that isn’t here yet. Kinda like Sundays, which should be lazy and indolent and steeped in love, but really, you’re wondering what you’ll pack for lunch tomorrow.
Today is nearly over, but tomorrow… Tomorrow and Saturday and even Sunday I will live with the intention of joy in my gypsy soul.
I’d promise to share pictures, but I’m not thinking that far ahead.
Is August your Sunday too? How far ahead are you thinking?