I Want to Remember the Heat
July is a Saturday night
Saturday, July 4th - 8:23am
The thunderstorm that passed through last night left the chair cushions a little damp, so I’ve opted for the concrete. I’m sitting with my legs dangling in the pool, hoping the salt water will heal the slight ache in my muscles. The sky is a little cranky from the neighbor’s late night fireworks, the sun barely peaking around the clouds. This is appreciated, honestly, as yesterday was quite eventful and I could use the brief delay in starting the day.
Looking out at the scene around me, with the air still and the water calm and no one but the birds having a conversation, it’s nothing like yesterday’s story.
If someone stumbled upon this backyard, would they see the charred grill off to the side and know that it burst into flames and almost caught the deck on fire? Would they see the frisbee on the grass and know that I got hit in the head with said frisbee (I’m fine, don’t worry, it was comical). Would they look in the Skimbot that’s cleaning the pool and see the dog fur and grass and know that 5 dogs and 20 people were running around the party? Would they know my friends named the bot Marty (aka The Real Skim Shady)? (That was George’s idea.) Would they see the heap of rubber lying in the grass and know that it’s an inflatable Slip n Slide and that Laura jammed her finger because she went full send down the slide and wasn’t able to stop? (She had a great time.) If someone saw the two water dishes, would they know that Misty (12 year old Husky) stood guard over one bowl (relentlessly), so Erin and Jack had to get a second bowl for Roman (7 year old* German Collie) (*He’s just a pup though, Erin will yell at you if you call her dog old).
And what about the events that didn’t leave a trace? Would anyone look at the empty table and know that it was filled with love and homemade treats? Would anyone look at the pool and know that Laura and I floated around at 10pm, long after the party ended, because we needed to discuss my dating life?
No one will ever truly know our stories unless we tell them.
Even as I write this, I catch myself questioning if it’s worth it to write my stories for the world. After all, if you look at most things on the internet, people are always telling you to compete for attention, to add value, to ✨dazzle✨
It’s all for the views, they say.
But what about perspective? Fun? That is value.
Why are we discounting our lived experiences? Why are we discounting the joy of remembering? Of sharing?
What a privilege it is to create art and memories.
I want to remember and be proud of a life well-lived. Not a perfect life. Not a life without difficulty or pain or bad decisions, but an interesting life. A life full of connection and joy and memories. I want other people to share their stories too - for community, for inspiration, just for fun. Even if that story is “just” a party recap.
So, yes. On Friday, July 3rd 2026 my friends hosted a pool party and it was full of energy, wine slushies, hot dogs, regular dogs, minor injuries, and those little torpedos that you throw into the water and dive to find them. A few of us turned it into a sleepover and for a brief moment I got to pretend I was one of those people who has a summer home. It might not be by an ocean, but the pool uses saltwater so that’s basically the same thing.
Summer is fleeting. If June is Saturday morning (9am, to be specific), then July is Saturday night - a party in full swing. Like any good party, before you know it the clock ticks past midnight and Sunday is upon us, whether we are ready or not.
I want to remember the stories. I want to remember the heat.
I am here to write about it.
(Ope, I hear some thunder.)
As I move inside, the rest of the house is waking up. My stomach rumbles, which can only be remedied with one solution - a leftover slice of pizza, eaten cold, straight from the fridge. No plate, only a paper towel to catch the crumbs. I will eat my slice while standing in the living room, debriefing the party with my friends.