June 2023

June 2023

Did you see the hydrangea? Did you blush? Did you swim when it was finally warm enough? Did you make that sandwich you were talking about? Do you still miss them? Did you mean it? Would you do it again? Have you watched that video I sent you? Have you vacuumed yet?

Do you remember those postcards I told you about, the old vintage ones the girl was going on about from the second human war? Do you think one day someone will read your diary? Do you think someday someone will see all these letters I’m writing you and wonder why you never wrote back?

I can keep telling you what it’s like, my world. I can marvel June after June when the bugs come back and the everything is buzzing and the lightning comes up from the grass in a slow, glowing flight. I can and I will. I marvel. I tell.

But are you holding on alright? Are your personal items stowed away? -Are your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times? Are you enjoying the ride?

Did you know it would be this way? Even though they told you? Have you been wrong yet? Regularly and without partition?

Did you find that thing? Sorry, sorry. I forgot. Have you strung up your own hammock yet, is it still too hot? Have I told you how the girl eats meals on the stairs, by the window where she suns the plants? Do you think she’ll go green soon, like the bag of potatoes in the cupboard?

Are you getting good sleep? Are you missing the sleep for something better? Do the moths come to your window at night? What do you say to them? I’m having a hard time convincing them to move slowly, to treat their bodies with care. I don’t move quickly, you know that, do you think that’s why they don’t listen though? Do you think the moths have the attitude of some teenager post labor laws whose authority figures don’t understand? Gah. I don’t want to be an authority figure. I just want the moths to be kinder to themselves. I want the girl, when she stays up reading to me, to read better books. Do you know what you want?

Tell me it’s something. Tell me it’s anything. Tell it’s well, even when it isn’t. Tell me to eat dinner on the stairs. Tell me to be kinder to myself, to not beat so hard against any window with light on the other side.

Write me back,

the apple house