Perspective: Sticky

I like the kind of summer that gets under your nails:

Dirt from my garden. Popsicles. The film of

Sunscreen. A peach eaten over the sink, juice

running down your wrist. Beer gone warm.

Leather seats in the sun. Sweat. Mosquito

bites.

Yes, summer is messy…and short. It gives

you a few good weeks and then, like an unreliable lover,

it leaves without saying goodbye. The freckles fade. The

burn peels. The nights get shorter, darker. You find sand

in places sand has no business being. And yet. Years later,

you're still carrying something from that summer.

A person. A hunger. An idea. A bad decision. A song. A scar.

A memory of being young enough, or stupid enough, or

hopeful enough to believe that whatever was happening

would last.

That is where this issue begins: with the residue. With the

aftermath. With the stuff we thought we'd cleaned up.

The writers in these pages have brought us desire and

grief, obsession and tenderness. The loves that left grease

on the glass. The politics that make us gag. The thoughts

that won't stop circling.

There is sweetness here…and the mess that comes with it.

Because that's the thing about sweetness: you often don't get

to keep it. You get the peach, the drink, the summer night,

the kiss. You get the brief, glorious, sticky middle of things.

And then the season changes.

What remains is what we carry.

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Allison Bothley is a writer and recovering MFA (The New School) who lives in Orangeville, Ontario. Her writing has appeared in The Globe and Mail, The White Wall Review, Red Rock Review, The Literary Review of Canada and others. She is the creator and publisher of Bangs Zine, an independent space hot for big feelings, emerging writers, and lazy Sunday readers.

IG: @allisonbothleywrites

Website: www.allisonbothley.com