Summer Sunshine
Waves of heat and exhaustion wash over me.
I sit under a tree, squinting at painfully bright greenery in the searing sun.
The air is dry heat, it’s passage through my nostrils cooling momentarily as moisture evaporates.
And then, dry. So dry.
The scent of dryness is almost metallic. Like old rust.
The wind scoops up the dust and flings it.
The sun is blinding.
I close my eyes. The world is a wash of vermilion, with flashes of black. A negative image of the world I shut out.
Another gust of wind. The leaves of the tree above my head rustle in dry whispers.
So dry…
The silence is deafening. The afternoon heat has driven even insects and birds to some brief shade.
I hear my own heart thumping… A steady, heavy cadence. My blood whooshing through my body is a dull roar.
Yet, this sound is like a tiny leaf struggling to cast shade in the vast bright white and green…
Slowly, the silence recedes. I hear footsteps. Closer and closer…
My eyelids fly open, and cringe, in the violent green.
My husband and son come.
We get into the car. Cool dry air blows in my face from the AC vents.
We greedily gulp down water. It is tepid, with a taste of dry metal. And yet, so welcome…
And we drive home.
Our second visit to the mango orchard is over.
