To Remember in July

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When my family and I are baking in the heat of the Texas sun, I will remember this week.

If I break into a sweat walking from our front door to the car and burn myself on my seat belt, I will remember hobbling through the parking lot this week, trying to keep my feet dry and avoid slipping on the ice. I will remember the anxiety that comes with carrying a baby on ice—If I fall, she falls.

If it takes a while for the air conditioning to kick on once I start driving, I will remember the dread of feeling your car slipping on the ice. I will be glad I can stop and go as I please.

When it's hot in Texas, I will remember the layer of ice on the inside of our apartment windows here in Utah.

When the humidity flattens my hair, I will remember stashing bottles of lotion around the house. I will remember the sight of Ryan's knuckles bleeding. I will remember how Lyla did a snake-like dance move on the floor from time to time to scratch her own back. I will remember slathering lotion on myself and my family again and again as we inevitably do silly things like wash our hands or take baths.

I will remember Ryan's cold, which should have lasted a few days but is hanging on well into the second week thanks to the dry desert air and filthy inversion.

When I get frustrated that we have to go to the pool to keep cool, I will remember the inescapable chill that seeped under our doors and through our windows to wake Lyla up at night.

I will remember dragging the humidifier around our house, alternating it with the space heater to meet current desperation.

I solemnly swear that I will remember, and I will be glad for the heat. Even if it makes me a sweaty, thristy, flat-haired mess.

Amen.