It’s already July and, judging by the hot breeze so early in the morning, it’s going to be another scorching day. A young deer came out of the woods and is grazing on the green grass in the backyard, unafraid of the human sitting on the deck and watching her.
The heat swirls in my mind memories of hot summers in my childhood under Nicolae Ceausescu’s communist regime in Romania, when we could seldom afford to go to the pool and certainly not unaccompanied by a parent. The bus fare and the long ride to the outskirts of town were prohibitive for “proletarians.”
