The Rain in June
June was gray. It was cold and wet and gray and hot and wet and gray. It was truly miserable, inside and out.
One rainy Sunday I went by myself to Bam to see "Me and Earl and the Dying Girl" because hey, why not? When you're sad and it's gloomy, there is something comforting about being in a dark room with strangers watching a movie about a kid with cancer. I'm serious! It was so comforting! The film was lovely and quirky, and I sat in the very middle of the theater wrapped up in my cozy grandpa sweater. It was hot and muggy outside, but I've made that movie theater mistake before, and the sweater was needed for both heat and security. I snuggled into it with Kleenexes in one hand and a diet soda in the other.
Things have not been going well lately. Big things like life plans and small things like spilling strawberries all over the grocery store floor. One night while I was sleeping, a rainstorm blew through Brooklyn, and due to a reason that my landlord explained but I still don't fully understand, the rain sprayed in my bedroom like a true hurricane. It ruined pictures and soaked my bed and I had to go sleep on an air mattress in my living room. I felt like that that saying, "When it rains, it pours" had never been so true. I woke up with a neck cramp and teary eyes.
My mom bought a ticket to come stay with me for a couple of days because sometimes even a 28-year-old woman still just needs her mom. I just needed my mom. We went to Coney Island and to a Billy Joel concert, and while it was nice to get out of my little bitty apartment, I felt a stormy rain cloud over my head the whole time. I'm being both literal and figure here. It rained almost the whole weekend.
By the end of the month, the rainy days were becoming fewer and farther between. Sometimes the sun came out as if to say, "Hey, I'm here for a bit. I still exist." But then it would sneak away again. I woke up on July 1st to wet sidewalks but a blue sky. It was clear skies all day. I moved out and started moving on. Now it's July.
One rainy Sunday I went by myself to Bam to see "Me and Earl and the Dying Girl" because hey, why not? When you're sad and it's gloomy, there is something comforting about being in a dark room with strangers watching a movie about a kid with cancer. I'm serious! It was so comforting! The film was lovely and quirky, and I sat in the very middle of the theater wrapped up in my cozy grandpa sweater. It was hot and muggy outside, but I've made that movie theater mistake before, and the sweater was needed for both heat and security. I snuggled into it with Kleenexes in one hand and a diet soda in the other.
Things have not been going well lately. Big things like life plans and small things like spilling strawberries all over the grocery store floor. One night while I was sleeping, a rainstorm blew through Brooklyn, and due to a reason that my landlord explained but I still don't fully understand, the rain sprayed in my bedroom like a true hurricane. It ruined pictures and soaked my bed and I had to go sleep on an air mattress in my living room. I felt like that that saying, "When it rains, it pours" had never been so true. I woke up with a neck cramp and teary eyes.
My mom bought a ticket to come stay with me for a couple of days because sometimes even a 28-year-old woman still just needs her mom. I just needed my mom. We went to Coney Island and to a Billy Joel concert, and while it was nice to get out of my little bitty apartment, I felt a stormy rain cloud over my head the whole time. I'm being both literal and figure here. It rained almost the whole weekend.
By the end of the month, the rainy days were becoming fewer and farther between. Sometimes the sun came out as if to say, "Hey, I'm here for a bit. I still exist." But then it would sneak away again. I woke up on July 1st to wet sidewalks but a blue sky. It was clear skies all day. I moved out and started moving on. Now it's July.
Comments
Post a Comment
Leave me a message!