This summer didn’t fly by like most. Autumn officially begins in two days, and I still haven’t felt those hopeful cusp days between summer and fall. That’s California for you.
When will I see those ombre yellow-orange leaves lying perfectly on the concrete? When will I be forced to shut my bedroom window because of the legitimately cold air? Instead, I’ve felt like I’ve had multiple summers this summer.
I spent the beginning of my summer in sticky Connecticut. I fought off mosquitos, chased fireflies, ate decadent, heavy meals outside in thick, humid air. I even swung on a handmade swing. I realized it’s absolutely impossible to create nothing-less-than-perfect memories in the idyllic, hunter green Connecticut.
The remainder of my summer was spent here, in dry, burning-hot, not-so-pastoral California, being lazy.
Lazy with a perpetually sore and tanned body. Lazy heart. Lazy reading and writing. Pants that found more use covering the floor than my hips and legs. Lazy and long trips to the fridge, or out to the grass just to feel something cool between my toes. Large lonely house. I found myself spending many moments resting against the dark walls . . . just thinking. There was no rush.
I’m ready to be rushed. Looking forward to chilly evenings, the smell of bonfires in truly cold beach weather, and chunky sweaters, of course.
Until next year, Summer.
Autumn, I’ve been waiting for you. Come closer.