I’m thinking about my future self today. My summer self. The self that doesn’t exist yet but I want her to so that she can gather up the bundle of emotions I’m feeling today, that I’ve felt the last two months, like stacks of weathered and frayed textiles. I want her to fold them up and tuck them away and unravel them when the sun is coaxing sweat beads out of her pores. The dark, musty hues will wave in the sun-drenched air and the needle on the spectrum of happiness will sputter towards the most. Like opposing magnetic poles she will be able to see more and feel more because of the propulsion from what was. Or rather, what is, right there in front of her.