Slow Girl Summer

Recalibrate. Release. Reflect. Reset.

Lately, I’ve been craving a different pace.

Maybe it’s the weight of the year catching up with me, or maybe it’s just the soul’s natural rhythm asking to align with the season — longer days, softer evenings, and the invitation to exhale.

Morgan Harper Nichols

I came across this poem by Raquel Franco called Slow Girl Summer, and it stopped me in my tracks. It felt like a map back to something I’ve forgotten — or maybe something I’ve never fully known. A way of being that isn’t ruled by the next task, the next email, the next scroll.

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Slow Girl Summer
Build a bucket list that needs no cellphones.
Get more acquainted with the blood orange face of the June sun.
Throw the soft fabric of your skin into a lake.
Fold your body like a womb and cannonball yourself into the deep.
Let there be more happy hours.
Sweat of a glass dripping down your wrist on a patio with a string of starry lights.
Take yourself to a strawberry garden and stain your fingertips ruby red.
When it rains stroll the aisles of an old bookstore and strum the spine of stories yet to be ventured.
Lose time's phone number.
Slow dance through summer to the percussion of your own pulse.
— Raquel Franco

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This summer, I want to recalibrate.
To move slower.
To lose time’s phone number and remember what it feels like to come home to myself.

Release
I’ve been in the mood to clear space — not just the usual surface tidy-up, but a deeper kind of letting go.

I’m talking about the forgotten files in my office, the 20-year-old paint cans in the basement, the dresses I love but haven’t worn the last few summers, the old toys tucked in corners of the closet.

a sampling of the give-away pile

When the world feels like too much, I start with what I can see and touch.
Releasing the physical gives me a sense of agency — a way to reconnect with what is.
What I need.
What actually grounds me.

Reflect
As part of my summer slowdown, I asked Claude AI to analyze my calendar and email from the past six months.

It offered something I didn’t know I needed: an objective look at how I’ve spent my time — and what’s been asked of me.
Seeing the hard numbers helped quiet the little voice that says I should be able to do it all.

The truth is, I’ve been doing a lot. Probably more than I realized.
And I’m learning (again) that awareness is the first step toward change — not doing more, just noticing more.

Reset
This summer, I’m inviting in more lightness.

Not just in schedule, but in spirit.
Trashy beach reads.
An unapologetic hour of Real Housewives.
Messy art, long walks, cocktails with friends.
Permission to soften the edges of my days.

bring on the VT hammock time

I want to reset by returning to what feels good —
not earned or efficient,
just easy.
Just enough.

tinto de verano sipping in seville

Here’s my not-so-ambitious summer list:
• Play sloppy rounds of tennis with my kids and attempt to learn pickleball
• Say yes to hammocks, sky-gazing, and watching tree limbs sway
• Eat hot fudge sundaes and get back to my yoga mat
• Mix up tinto de veranos and remember the colors of Seville
• Leave my phone behind — even just for an hour - or an entire afternoon
• Listen to more music — the kind that stirs memory, movement, or both
• Be slow, and trust that it’s more than enough

What might your Slow Girl (or Slow Soul) Summer look like?

I’d love to hear what’s calling to you this season.