Well, here I am again. Hot and sad.

Things have been going OK, process-of-grief-wise. I've been making progress, mostly, and finding my way alone. But this sudden heat and the arrival of real summertime has shot it all to hell.

Mom LOVED hot weather, when I was little. I took after my Dad, who detested it. I can count on one hand the things that I like about summer and four of them are food. The fifth I don't do anymore (swimming). Mom was always cold, though. And I know that she was extra cold, trying to make sure that Dad and I were cool enough. Later in her life she got warmer, somehow, and then the heat started to bother her. We actually enjoyed bitching about it together, the past few years.

Last year when she was dying, it was winter. We shared that last winter. And this Spring ran on forever, with its cool wet days. I was lulled into a sense of ease and complacency I think -- she wasn't here but the cool damp of that last shared season still remained.

And now it's hot and horrible and there have been tornado watches and nearly everything makes me miss her. So here I am, starting all over again, in some ways. Not as bad, of course. And I'll be OK. But what a setback. And such a surprise.

And gosh I wish she'd had a pushbroom - she'd've loved it.