Notes From June

Something about the heat makes me consider hibernating

It’s been a hot minute (literally, the heat is melting my brain). I wasn’t so sure I’d write a “Notes from June” this year. The last few months weren’t particularly eventful, and June even less so. It just lingered in strange ways. I kept thinking I had nothing to say, but there was a certain heaviness to the way this month unfolded. Nothing dramatic, just quietly persistent. Like a cat curling up on your doorstep and refusing to leave, even if it never really belonged to you.

This is not a neat update. It’s more like a loose collection of moments. Some loss. Some silence. And a cat.

Here’s what June left behind.

I. The Cat Who Wasn’t Mine

I first mentioned her back in January when she started showing up at our doorstep. A street cat, clearly, but too confident to be completely wild. I came home one day, and there she was pregnant, napping at our doorstep, blinking at us like we were the guests. Occasionally slipping into the house. She existed in our space, between a few neighbors’ homes and the corner shop.

Then, one morning mid-May, she was gone. My father, who had been all grumpy about her presence, noticed first. Days passed. When she returned, her body smaller, four kittens trailing behind her.

Now, she wasn’t the only cat at our doorstep, few strays had joined later, but now we got four more kittens. My father, to my absolute amazement, was delighted. They played around the trees in front of the house, then napped near the shop, on our doorstep, sometimes even in the hallway.

And then one day, she was taken. Stolen, they said. A neighbor saw it happen; a man literally jumped out of his car, scooped them all up, and drove off on his merry way.

Just like that. No more kittens. No more, “please don’t get on the countertop, I’ll feed you, just stay there!!” I was quietly devastated.

She wasn’t mine. But I miss her like she was. I still pause before stepping outside, half-expecting to find her curled up in the shade. I never named her. Maybe that made it worse. There’s no name to mourn.

II. Things I Almost Wrote About

That one job I didn’t get.

That tea cup I dropped and didn’t bother sweeping up for an hour. I just stared at the shards, offended it chose that day to break.

A quiet dinner where no one spoke, because my father was in one of his moods and no one had the energy to deal with that.

A meme that made me laugh harder than it should’ve, because I was lonely.

The neighbor who tried to grow sunflowers and gave up halfway, so now there’s just a pot of sad leaves by the gate.

The way the heat pressed against my back while walking home one evening. Like it was pushing me toward something. Or away from something.

That text I almost sent. I typed it. Deleted it. Retyped it. Then left it to rot in drafts.

I don’t know why I keep trying to make everything matter.
Maybe it’s a writer thing.
Maybe it’s a me thing.
Maybe it’s June.

III. Something About the Heat

Something about the heat makes people talk louder. Walk slower. Fight more. Or less, depending on the hour.

The city feels warped by it. Plastic chairs soften in the sun. Ice melts too fast. Strangers overshare. Some lady told me about looking for a wife for her son in the prison while waiting for the bus, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

At night, the walls sweat. Dreams grow more vivid. Regrets get louder.

The heat turns everything into a memory before it even finishes happening.

And I keep thinking of her—the cat—how she curled up without fear, how she vanished without warning, how easy it was for someone to take her.

Something about the heat makes everything feel slower.
Even grief.
Even forgetting.

Thank you for reading this slightly sunburned, cat-haunted ramble.
If June also made you weirdly emotional over small things; ice cubes, broken mugs, random memories, you’re in good company.

Feel free to leave a comment or just stare dramatically at your fan. I support both.

See you next month, maybe.
Until then: stay hydrated, avoid mysterious cats, and let things matter even when they shouldn’t. <3

---