Summer Abstracts

Most stories are too complicated for me to fully understand. The stories that politicians tell the public about why they must go to war. The stories our parents tell us about why they left.

There are too many perspectives. Too many details forgotten, out of convenience or flaws in our mental recollection, or a combination of the two that lay a well-worn path as the story gets told over and over.

Though I love a good read, I’m more interested in the small moments within the tale. No need to know where we are going or where we have been. Only the light reflected off fall leaves. The smell of briny waters. And, the feeling that only this moment matters more than any of the stories we try to tell to make sense of our senses.

Moments are like abstract painting­­–flashes of memory that take us out of the story and into a feeling, flush and overwhelming without perspective. I can almost feel the white-hot sun, taste the salt in the air, hear the children yelling as waves chase them back to shore where they belong in this new, abstract, summer series. Summer moments never last long enough.

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