I find myself holding on to the Summer more tightly than ever, the way you hold on to life when you understand death for the first time. Maybe not even understand it, because how could we possibly? But at the very least, accept it as an inevitability. Like the inevitability that the seasons will pass, even if we’re not around to see them.
I hold on to the Summer, because distance has amplified the meaning of time. The thousands of miles of space in between myself and those I love, in between the reality of day to day life and the manifestation of my dreams, has made the precious passing of time profound.
I hold on to the Summer loosely, because how can you hold on to something that isn’t yours to keep? How could you ever let go without falling apart if you tried? I hold on loosely because the thrill of tomorrow beckons me forward, because change is the only thing I am certain of, because I hope its companion will be joy.
Endless summer, I don’t hold on to you at all. I savor you. I savor you because living fully in this body is the only now I have. Savor your sol que pica, your warm seductive breezes. The heat that rises from the concrete at night because it’s been soaked in your blazing Sun for an entire day. The heat you beckon out of me in beads of sweat that melt into your essence making us one in the same.
I savor you, because the time that slips by inside my own head, in yesterday and tomorrow, in worry and fear, is time lost. I savor you because “later” is a construct of mortals who forget their finite mortality. I savor you because those closest to grief understand this more acutely than the rest of us, and I refuse to wait for grief to remember it. I savor you Endless Summer, because with the passing of your cycle, I remember there’s infinity to look forward to.
