As the first school bell rings, I am forced to reminisce…
I like to think of Summer as a relative that comes to visit- you know, that favorite aunt or uncle who greats you with a hug and a smile. She delights you with stories and adventures and you can’t believe how much fun you are having – until you realize that it is about to end.
I don’t think the season dies. I merely think that Summer takes a break. Sometimes, like that aunt or uncle, she comes back for a brief visit before a long absence and you are reminded of all that is humorous and right with the world. Your steps are a little lighter, your stride is stronger. The sun shines brighter.
But eventually she has to catch her bus. She has to go – wherever that mystical place that aunts and uncles go when the Greyhound pulls off, yet she doesn’t leave you empty handed.
The souvenirs that Summer leaves are bountiful- sights, smells, tastes, naps all encased in photos, tans, postcards, and memories. These gifts only become stagnant if you don’t visit them, and care for them, and celebrate them even after they have happened. They become stagnant when you don’t remember the sound of the splash of the water, or the warmth of the sun, or the grit of the sand between your toes. They become stagnant when you don’t relish and revisit the sly smile of a child right before they take the first lick of an ice cream treat from the first Summer ice cream truck.
As the sounds of school buses revving their engines take over the previously quiet mornings, Summmer takes this as her signal to get on her bus.
But she will be back, and, technically, if you hold on to those memories, those adventures, to all of her sounds, smells, tastes, and tales – she never really leaves.
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