My Dearest Summer,
I’ll be honest, love, I thought about not writing you. You are busy saying goodbye to your fans, and who else really cares about how we spent our last three months, anyway? But then I remembered that sometimes it really isn’t about anyone else. It’s just about you and me, and we had a pretty magnificent affair this season. I would be remiss not to send a thank you (my mother would have found it rude), and after all, what is any decent fling without a passionate love letter to record it for future memory?
To start, you were in your finest form, spookily on your game. Very little brutal, slaying heat, and only a few adorable rain showers thrown in for variety. In fact, I may have longed for a good raging hot day to irrationally blame some excess irritability on, but you gave me no room. You were too busy filling our evenings with perfect lightening bug-catching temps and blowing gentle breezes across the moments we played in the sun.
While winter selfishly incapacitates us and dominates our hours with obscenely long grocery store lines for bread and milk, you shine your sunny glow upon us and send us off to play. Under your reign, while our skin chicly bronzed (albeit under safe UV-protection, of course), we hit amusements parks, frolicked endlessly in the pool, fell in love with Daniel Tiger, vacationed with family, and snuck in countless hours swinging on swings and sliding on sliding boards. There were too-fun birthday parties, grilling galore, and visits with friends more precious than words can capture.
Truth told, we were all exhausted all the time. But who doesn’t know that comfy pillows and crisp sheets are really made for summertime? Sweet exhaustion is, after all, sweet, most especially when done with the windows open and the fresh night air filling the house.
There is some powering magic to your sunshine. It allows Mommy to do things like tackle massive body challenges, host an author afternoon at the library, and be part of the most awe-inspiring blog conference ever. There was also the less significant, but equally scary, day she decided to make homemade tomato sauce, but miraculously did not burn the house down. Victory!
And then she got this blog thing trademarked and for a day, became her own hero. Told you Summer, your power is magic.
In the months of your fabulousness, husbands psychotically foster bee-keeping hobbies, build gorgeous fountains, and make mad progress remodeling basements. Children grow inches, teach themselves to use the potty, and get on the school bus for the first time. Yes, Mommy is still a bit sobby about that one.
You have packed our days and filled our hours. Through you we have grown, flown, and delighted to our hearts content. So maybe part of those alleged bus-stop tears are due to the fact that you are leaving me.
I love you, anyway.
So stash this note in your memory box in the back of the closet. Dig it out in the lonely cold months to come if you long for a sunny smile, but don’t mourn too long or hard for our lost days. I have a feeling you and I run pretty deep–and we’ve got loads more of these hot hot weather flings in the years to come. To the future, my love.
I’ll be hibernating and busy being a slug until we meet again. xo…