In the afternoon for summer solstice sunset I tend the gardens. The air is cool, the crickets sing. I’m pulling weeds in the maize when the rains come. Sunset tangerine hues outline a bursting grey rain cloud that slowly passes above. I’m getting drenched in big drops while I continue to uproot the strays.

Deep satisfaction fills me as I make my rounds from tree to plant. The squall passes and twilight falls as I clear debris and harvest purple eggplant in the last remaining light on the longest day of the year.

In the quiet of the trees and flowers I acknowledge that I am moving in my dream made real. I am living my heart’s desire.

The sink still leaks but I’ve got a handle on it.

I wrote a new song today, the first one in two years.

Random phone call reveals there will be no financial aid for Jeb’s school that begins in 6 weeks. It’s an extra $600 each month.

I go to the beach and soak in the warm tropical sea pool with my son after receiving the news. His arms are tight around me, “go as fast as lightening, motor boat”.

“This boat is docked,” I say. I just want to sit and hug him in the sweet azure water underneath the cotton clouds.

At night I go to a talk given by a couple that say they have tools to feel happy 365 days a year. So many times I feel like I could just break down crying in my little chair. No real reason that I can pin. Just waves of emotion that make my throat feel tight and my stomach knot.

They speak about having life force energy, that ‘juice’ in life and I reflect on how I sometimes wonder if I’m just drying up inside.

I think I’ve temporarily solved the leak in the faucet. It holds well all day. But by sunset we’re dripping again. Righty tighty goes the water main for now.

I play music today and send it out over the radio airwaves. Random men call the studio during the program to ask about a song or tell me that they appreciate the music. I stretch myself to ask their names. It’s not that I am shy, I’m just bumblely. No finesse. Flirtation with men feels alien, somewhere in a realm of memory that is no longer my own.

I’m like the Tin Man before the Wizard.

Handsome-friend-who-was-once-a-lover calls me as he is driving and listening to my show. Sometimes he still comes in my dreams and we kiss or hold hands and sometimes I even think to tell him this. I know he’s not my soul mate but he was my Wizard last year.

As for the leak, I think an experienced craftsman is needed before going lefty loosey.