I'm in love with September.
One night everything was sweltering, and I could barely sleep because I didn't want to turn on the AC.
Two mornings later, I woke up to thunder shaking all the windows and gotas como monedas pouring down outside. It wasn't the monsoon kind of rain (the middle-of-July-the-sky-just-can't-take-it-anymore storm). It was the cold kind of rain, and the lightning was cracking Fall right into my backyard. So I forgive everyone (including myself) for wanting to wear a sweater and socks.
June, July, August, and Lake Powell will just have to wait for next year. Lake Powell was a hard one to drop. It's the only place I didn't go this summer. I've never been, and one of my friends argues that it's as haunting as France.
I mean...I might be slightly still sad about Lake Powell tomorrow.
But I'll be over it by Sunday.