When we arrived yesterday the sky was crisp and blue.
The trees out here on the Oregon coast are tall and strong. They grow fast in the rain and rich soil, but their roots go deep. They are strangely shaped, with missing branches and limbs bent by the wind, but they are steady. There is one tree growing on the side of the rock wall that stretches into the ocean.
There’s another fresh loss in my life this year, but here we are in June, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve felt the storm building for weeks, like a slow hurricane that I see coming in, but cannot avoid.
June is my cruelest month.
Do you have days or months that are marked like this? Seasons weighted with grief or unease that show up each year?
I’ve tried all sorts of things to fight it. I’ve partied my way through Junes, slept through them, and hid away with my good friends Rational Detachment, Over-exercise, Over-eating and Alcohol.
But I’m learning that there are no ways around grief, so this June I am trying to dig in my roots.