8.14.16 Later, when the kids were in bed

I remember those high holy summer days, when the humidity made it near impossible to think, to eat, to sleep. 

I'd have the kids at the outdoor town pool, or walk them down behind the house across the street to the stream, in the shade at the end of the tattered dirt path , where we'd eat simple packed lunches, slapping mosquitoes, and they'd lie lengthwise in the shallow waters, putting their faces in and bubbling, cooling their heat parched skin.
We'd tromp back up the hill home, heat things up again cooking dinner, then put them all to bed after cold showers or baths, fans blazing , windows uselessly open.
They'd be sweat streaked and miserable and I'd go round with washcloths and ice water in bowls, wiping them down, murmuring how their pores were opening up, releasing the heat.
They'd groan with relief as I went round and round from one hot room to the next, going back down to refresh water and ice cubes , back up and wiping them down, as they smiled, eyes closed, just about coping with the discrepancy between the heat and the sweet cold relief.
Later, when they were finally knocked out, my husband and I would hold each other in that intolerable dark heat, simply accepting what was, as I trailed one lone ice cube down his long lone spine .