Her Silk Scarf Summer

She always kind of liked it when her tea sat too long.
Maybe that’s because she feared being burned, or maybe that’s how she saw herself, and ambitiously hoped that someone would still enjoy her after she became cold, too. 
Perhaps that’s over analytical, but either way, she liked the irony.  

She learned a lot that summer. About being alone. About standing still.
She learned that everything she once knew for certain, was now so touch and go.
Her black Levi’s loosened up, her friend had a baby, and her old record player never stopped working, though she was so sure that it would.
It really was such a lovely summer.

She woke up early as the sun crept through her window.
She fixed her tea, then let it sit too long.
And she trailed through the acres beyond the back porch and recalled a different time.
Back to when the sun bleached her hair and fresh raspberries from the orchard stained her lips a perfect pink.   

It was that same summer when she lost the silk scarf that she so often donned around her braided brunette hair.
It was time she’d actually rather not recall.

But she smiled because now was different.
It was nearly August and the peonies never bloomed.
Their leaves browned and cracked, though she tended to them with care.
And it was then that she realized the beauty of a garden might not be about the flowers, after all.

XOXO,
Lexie
BB