The Weird Passion Saving My Life rn

(are you ready for it?)

Back in the sticky-floor humidity of Summer ‘23, which some referred to as Fat Tomato Summer, and others (secretly) thought of as Rotten Tomato Summer, there were moments. The good kind. Tiny miracles. Magic in the ruins. That was the whole assignment, after all – to locate happiness in the rubble. We tasked ourselves with picking through the endless racks of outdated, stretched-out Goodwill catastrophes, so to speak, find that gorgeous, perfectly-worn waffle T in a gorgeously obscure poppy red, and throw ourselves straight into it.

We said we would spend our summers chasing bliss, and I hope some of us did. But others (hi) were the chased. For us, the lesson was to notice flashes of rest/beauty/delight while we ran for our lives.

I did my best to detail a bunch of the things that kept me sane through my cruelest summer.

But I kept the best one secret.

(I promise, you’re not ready.)

Here’s the thing: hope cannot be prescribed. We think we know what we need, what our hearts love, blah blah blah, but sometimes, a sweet little creature slinks out from the shadows and saves our lives. Unpredictable. Preposterous. Bananas. Bliss.