On the night after it flooded, I sat next to a drunk man with a Lonestar cupped in my hands. We were looking into the dark sky, which was studded by a few hesitant stars. It felt like the ground was gasping for air, which still felt damp and heavy after so much rain.

“Look how great a summer it already is,” he said, “and we don’t even know each other yet!”


I laughed.


After so many days of rain, it is suddenly and surprisingly real summer. 


I think I’ve said nearly all the goodbyes I’ve needed to say.

I moved my things back into the bedroom of my childhood. The room is white and cold and faces east. My parent’s dog sleeps on my bed.


College is over, though it only really hit me when I took one of my best friends to the airport. She drank two beers and we cried the whole way there. I don’t really believe in goodbyes, because they’re too hard. So the past couple of weeks have primarily been casual “see-you-laters.” 


The point is, I’m without a plan, without the nagging goal of an institution at my heels, or the social infrastructure tied to that place.

And it feels good. So good I can’t really believe it.

Though the omnipresent, “And what are you going to DO?” haunts me.


Because I wasn’t here last summer, I forgot how incredible June in Texas really is. The clouds are fat and blowsy, the creeks full of warm, clear water. 


All I really crave and want to make right now are bowls of guacamole.   


I eat it standing up, or at the kitchen table and worry about all the things I don’t know how to do yet.

It is okay.

Guacamole is good.

The creek is full of water and the clouds are big.

And the summer has just begun.

And look how great it is already.



P.S. Look who got a real website! If you want an old recipe or post it’s all hidden in the archives where you can search and browse to your hearts content! Additionally if your heart so desires you can buy my brand-spankin’-new-cookbook! (I know $20 is steep, but books are expensive to print!) All my love. XOXO