Weight, inexplicable

Another Arizona morning dawned, its brief coolness already a fading memory as the sun climbed with its usual, relentless pursuit of diurnal progress. It's a familiar feeling, this quickening warmth, a stark reminder that we're on the cusp of another brutal summer. And with it, that particular internal shift—a reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder that pushes me inward, where the relentless glare outside means days spent within walls, the sky a distant, unreachable memory. A strange anxiety settles then, a quiet melancholy that hums beneath the surface of everything.

And then, there was the scale. That unfeeling, digital oracle, delivering its pronouncement this morning: a number too close to the most I've ever carried, a moment of sharp chagrin. So, the usual ritual: a pilgrimage to a brightly lit, cavernous store, a defensive maneuver against the easy lure of the outside world. The carts clanged with the weight of resolutions, and even there, the sting of rising costs, the daily revelation that everything simply costs more, became another small, dull ache.

My chosen solace in those aisles rarely deviates. Certain prepared meals are my anchors, offering a primal, familiar comfort. They aren't bastions of health, no, but there's a particular joy in the crisp, almost burnt edges. And so, with a few carefully chosen provisions, I make my quiet stand against the creeping cost of things, both monetary and emotional.

When the summer heat truly traps me, my mind seeks its own familiar havens. The vibrant, pixelated worlds of childhood games become a kind of intellectual comfort food, a familiar, challenging distraction, a momentary reprieve from the relentless churning of everyday thoughts. It's there, in those familiar landscapes, that my mind can chase its meandering thoughts without being crushed by the weight of them.

But the truth, raw and unvarnished, is that the true weight I carry transcends the numbers on a scale or the price of a packaged meal. It's the profound, sometimes overwhelming, gravity of simply being. There are young shoulders close to me carrying burdens far too heavy for their years, navigating complexities born of life's intricate, sometimes messy, tapestry. They are on a journey that reminds me of the rapid unfolding of life, and the innocent moments that perhaps passed too quickly, swallowed by the demands of a complicated world.

The echoes of my own past resonate too: the shifting landscapes of divorce, the constant migrations, the new beginnings. So many lives now, so many challenges, a constant, shifting kaleidoscope of change. Sometimes, the sheer enormity of it all—the responsibility, the love, the unavoidable pain—it feels like one wave after another dragging me under. In those moments, a wistful longing for a temporal rewind takes hold, a yearning to re-thread the past. This is the intricate, beautiful, and sometimes brutally heavy life I find myself navigating now, a symphony of blessings and burdens played on strings that feel increasingly frayed.