My letter to summer

Dear Summer,

So this is it, huh?  You're going to slide out just like that?  Don't you know how much I love you?  I know.  I get it, you have to leave.  The whole world spinning on it's axis and going around the sun thing really makes it quite inevitable, doesn't it?  If I could change it, I would.

 

Fall is nothing compared to you.  Fall is a big bucket of crapsauce.  All I hear is people raving about their freaking pumpkin spice lattes and their hoodies and college football and I am bewildered, wondering if they've ever even spent ten minutes on a beach in their favorite pink bathing suit.  Do they not think of the smell of the grill, of the nights you can walk outside in shorts, the sun still setting late in the evening, making it seem that all is well with the world?  Do they not know of the summer constellations that are spied in the dark, quiet, early morning before the sunrise?  Can they not feel the hot sand between their toes and smell the coconut scented wonders?  Have they so easily forgotten the runs while the sun sets, casting the spectrum of colors throughout the cloudless skies from one end to the other? 

Maybe they don't see it.  Maybe they don't understand how long a year feels to get back to those days.  Maybe they didn't go outside enough to appreciate it.  Maybe they ate too many s'mores and have brain damage now from the neurotoxic mercury in the high fructose corn syrup.  Maybe they're just weird.

As for me, I'll accept it quietly, determinedly, stately, bravely (and miserably). What else can be done?  I will squint my eyes at the ever present sights of you leaving me - the awful leaves falling from the once beautiful trees, life turning brown, numbing, and monotonous.  It's work from here.  Raking, shoveling, parka wearing, and climbing halfway into the dryer just to be able to try to take the chill out of your bones again.  And let me be perfectly clear, a clothes dryer is a pathetic substitute for the heat you feel from basking underneath the glow of the summer sun. 

I'll miss you.  I miss you already.  I suppose moving to the southern hemisphere may be a little drastic to meet you again, but if I'm being honest, I'd have to say I've contemplated it.

I can hear them now, "But without winter, you can't appreciate summer!  Think of the earth resting and all the growth in the future!"

I respond unapologetically and resolutely with an incredulous furrowed brow, "Shush up."  Inside, I say more than that, and exponentially more colorfully.  This is no time to wax hopeful.

They chime in again, "But the hoodies!  And the donuts!  And the upcoming holidays!"

You literally might as well stab me in the face with a blowtorch.  Those all sound horrible and make me want to gouge out my own eyeballs with a spork.  I hate donuts.  And bah humbug (for good measure).  Do you not know what sunshine is?  Honestly.  What is wrong with people?

(It probably has something to do with their lack of Vitamin D or something.  Perhaps they have SIBO and their gut-brain connection is wacked.  Maybe they need nootropics.  Maybe their water is so fluoridated that they have become apathetic to even the most basics of the joys in life.   Maybe they have no good flip flops or sundresses to enjoy.  Perhaps the chemtrails have finally gotten them.  The possibilities are freakinendless.)

Sigh.  It was nice, though.  I never take the sunshine for granted.  I love you, and I think of you always.

Peace, love, and muster all the sisu from the depths and the parkas from the closet,
Ms. Daisy