At approximately 2:30am, the heavens opened a window and threw a large bucket of water out over us. The deluge was short-lived, a thundering cavalcade across the roof and up against windows. I awakened, heard the sound and thought dreamily, ‘Oh good, this will break up the heat’.
The hot weather yesterday was beastly. Not monstrous like the western reddened land; burning up, lung searing, buried bones in crusted sand heat; the southwest endures that sort of furnace. No. Heat in the northeast is the kind which makes one stand at the end of the driveway, arms akimbo and say things such as ‘huh’ and ‘wait until February’. That sort of heat sets us back a pace or two. We don’t fight it. We don’t join it. We just wait.
On westward trips to South Dakota, as children our Mother admonished us, ‘Don’t fight it, it will only make you hotter’. In response we wailed, ‘But the seatbelt buckles are branding our legs!’ ‘Shhh…stop moving around so much. It only makes you hotter’. We hollered, ‘But look, the whole box of crayons has completely melted’. ‘Shhh…read a book, crank open the windows, be quiet and accept it’.
So now, as adults…freed from the searing buckles and the melted crayon wax, we handle the heat by going back inside the house. In the afternoon, we look out the living room window. The street is empty. There are a lot of children in this neighborhood. They will come out later when it cools down.
I haven’t seen our neighbors who live behind us for days, it seems. At twilight, I observe her with dog and family together, creep quietly out of the house and head up the sidewalk. The dog, a hugely furry husky looks bedraggled and generally disappointed with life. I wave and say, ‘Hello! How are you?’ ‘Oh, okay’…she sighs. ‘We’re finding things to do’. I nod and chuckle. ‘Huh’ I offer. She responds, ‘Huh’ and then they wander away, the dog still grieving his fate along the length of the heated sidewalk…
690 Saint Paul 