Middlebrow, Son and I drove into town on a hot night. The heat rising up from the pavement and the smell of Phoenix (what is that smell? It's heat and wood and some kind of flower. That's as exact as I can be) reminded me of my childhood. On the drive down I had remembered the summer my mom, two of my sisters and I lived with her parents. It was a sad and strange time, but I recall thinking that Phoenix was the center of civilization and, compared to Pocatello of course, it was. Phoenix has Metro, a mall with an indoor ice skating rink, and about a million pools. What else does summer require? Oh yeah, a bowling alley and a suitcase full of books. One summer I flew down by myself to stay with my grandmother, who now, as fate would have it, lives next door to my mom. But that summer, when I was 11 or 12, I brought a suitcase full of books to read. I did some art projects with my grandma and swam every day. What else is summer for? When did I get so worried about accomplishing things during what should be "summer vacation"? I think we went to the circus that summer. That might also have been the summer I almost fainted at a flea market because it was 100 degrees at 9 a.m. And I'm a thirsty person, even in the wet Northwest.
So by coming down here to Phoenix, we have somehow skipped over the transition of spring into summer and have gone directly to f*in' hot.
Did I mention that I forgot to pack shorts? My sister finds this incredibly funny.