oh, sweet summer

I'm not ready to say goodbye to you just yet.

You are the one season I look forward to during all the other cold months of the year. While the leaves fall, and the snow flies and the rain comes down in sheets, I dream only of you.

You are lovely, lush, abundant, warm, inviting. You make it possible for me to wear shorts and tank tops and swimsuits every single day. Because of you, I can feel the warm sun on my bare skin and take a dip in the cool waters of a pool or lake or pond. I can nap in my (new) hammock in the sun. I can spend LOTS of pleasant, comfortable time outdoors.

When you are here, I can walk barefoot. I love the feel of soft, hot sand or warm, verdant grass between my toes, cushioning my step. (Except when there's dog poop in the area, which is pretty much ALL THE TIME in my backyard. But that's another story.)

When you are here, it means that Super Boy is home with me all day, every day. I love that. During the blissful days of summer, we are able to fly by the seat of our pants, explore what we want to, when we want to. We can be lazy out in our own yard, or have picnics or go swimming or play at a park. Super Boy loves you just about as much as I do, although the lure of snow still calls to him in winter, the season I most dread. Of course, that's probably because I'm the one doing the majority of the shoveling and snow blowing, so really, who can blame me?

Speaking of Super Boy, as you draw to an end, o inimitable summer, it also marks the return to school for my little man. It's always a bittersweet thing for me, sending him on his way for another school year. There's of course some excitement in it, because I know how much Super Boy misses seeing all his friends all day long five days out of the week, and because he so enjoys learning new things and being able to tell me all about them at the end of his days. But there's sadness in this return as well, because it means that we're tied to a schedule again, we must wake up early and go to bed early again, and our days are no longer our own.

As always, dear sweet summer, I will continue to honor you until you blow your last warm breath (which, hopefully, won't be until end of October... I beg you) by leaving my moonroof open until it's too cold to bear it, sleeping with my windows open at night so you can continue to caress our sleeping forms, and spending as much time in anything other than jeans and real shoes for as long as my delicate, tender skin can take it.

I love you, summer. Please don't leave me.

Passionately yours,


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