June Already

I hate being that person—Jimmy Kimmel, when he was on TV, before the writers’ strike, has a segment where he replays newscasters saying the EXACT same thing: January already, February, March, April, May, now June—but it’s true. It is June already.

I’ve become that person. The kind of person who watches the seasons pass, observes the sky, dwells in small moments. Moments that have no time. Simply dwelling.

This morning taking out recycling, I had déjà vu—not that there was recycling when I was a teenager—of the sky, a certain slant of light, the tone, reminding me of another time, long long ago.

Suddenly my soul said: It’s June already—as if I didn’t already know.