The Hanging On

Summer is still hanging on in Florida. Knuckles white with the grip, nails deep in the flesh as she longs to hold us in her heat for a little bit longer. You can feel Summer’s grip loosening each morning and evening as a cool breeze teases us, but then disappears in mid-day when her hands of heat tighten once more.

We never really get a season of Fall the way our neighbors to the north do. Our days will simply become bearable over the next few weeks when we will finally be able to say goodbye to the Summer heat, but the real beauty that comes with Fall in the north is all but missed in our Pine tree-filled neck of the woods. And all this hanging on of Summer reminds me of the hanging on I do every day. To the good and the bad, I hang on for dear life.

I’m hanging on to grace when I fail, in constant need for continued forgiveness.

Hanging on to compassion when I’m face to face with someone that needs it.

Hanging on to grief when I know I should let go and move on but somehow the pain of what was lost is more pleasurable in this moment than the joy promised in the morning.

Hanging on to a child’s laughter when all I want to give in to is anger.

Hanging on to a promise forgotten, a friendship ended, a love lost, all because I  just can’t. let. go.

Hanging on with desperation to my husband’s love and trying to let go of the time when we weren’t so loving.

Hanging on to hurt and pain because I have no grace in me for the person that wronged me like she did.

Hanging on to dance parties in the kitchen and hide-and-seek in the park.

Hanging on to memories of a brother loved, a grandfather treasured, a friend cherished, all taken from this world and now living in the next.

Hanging on to the words of beauty given to me by my mother and hoping with all hope that I can impart beauty and self-worth to my own children.

Hanging on to the women I count as sisters, finding solace in the love of an unconditional friend.

We hang on to so much. And we find that some things are worth every effort that the hanging on requires. Yet others are begging to be let go and the more we fight to hang on (to the pain, the hurt, the grief), the more we are robbed of the comfort, joy and peace that could be in their place if we would only let it go.

But the letting go is much harder than the hanging on. Like Summer’s heat letting go of our days and giving way to cooler weather, it seems we hang on far too long to that which does nothing more than burn blisters on our fairing skin. To all that keeps us sweating, miserable, and begging for relief. And yet we tighten our grip and hang on for dear life.

Like it’s the letting go that will kill us when it’s actually the only thing that can save us.

I’m finally feeling a turn in our weather and can tell that Summer is getting ready to wave her flag and release her grip. And so am I. This girl, who tends to hold on a little too long to hurt and confusion, who has allowed her hands to callous and blister under the pressure that the hanging brings, is going to follow Summer’s suit and let go.

If only I had a pile of beautiful Fall-colored leaves to break my fall…

Dos and Don’ts of Self-Tanner

Vanity took over this morning and I decided I wasn’t quite tan enough for a Florida girl wrapping up summer. It’s already August for pete’s sake and I’m barely past the winter-white skin tone. Since going to the beach now requires time off of work and hours worth of preparation for the kids-in-tow, I decided to break out the self-tanner sample I got at Sephora a while back.

Having used self-tanners before and knowing that they can leave, how you say, not-so-natural streaks and dark spots if not applied with care and attention, I took my time with the application.

I was thrilled that my legs weren’t resembling the hue of a sweet potato, as I’d feared, and decided to move on to my arms since this was going so well! My arms and shoulders took on a warm sun-kissed glow and I was applying the self-tanner so carefully that I took an extra two minutes to extend the glow to my face. I made a mental note to get the full-size bottle the next time I hit up Sephora.

Ten minutes later, I’m done.

I examined my handiwork and congratulated myself on a streak-free, end-of-summer glow! That’s when I saw my hands. My palms were the most unnatural shade of brown that any white girl should have. I grabbed the soap and a loofa and started scrubbing. The brown didn’t budge. I grabbed the self-tanner bottle to read the back. Clear as day:

“Wash hands often when applying to your whole body so as not to stain palms.”

WHY DIDN’T I READ THE BACK FIRST?!?!?!

So now I’ve got a great summer glow happening, but I’m really glad we’ve moved from high-fives to fist bumps. Not that I do either, really. But if I come across anyone wanting to high-five me in the next few days it might be a little awkward. First, because they are still high-fiving people in 2012 but also because of this:

There is a reason for directions on self-tanner.