I squint past the muddied snow drift blocking my home's walkway, an ugly stepcousin to the fleecy blankets of weeks before.
I curse swiftly at the hidden puddle that drenches my shoes through, my socklessness suddenly revealed to be the folly it is.
One gust of wind comes up and whips the fridgid air into my eyes and ears, rudely ruffling my hair and lifting up the hem of my jacket, a brisk frisk.
Then comes the rain, and with it the final straw.
One drop at a time, smearing mascara and weakening my resolve.
My tears fall with the water from the sky, and they are tears for summer.
I close my eyes to shut out the darkness and travel to another sunnier time.
I can feel the warmth of the sun beaming down at me. That welcomed stifling feeling from warm air and blinding light. Feel the crinkle of my toasted nose from a day in the sand, my tank top and flipflop straps holding on my clothing for modesty alone, not warmth. The concept of a jacket and scarf foreign and forgotten- sunglasses and bathing suits are easier to wear, and don't hang as heavy on your heart.
I smell that intoxicating cocktail of sunscreen, bug spray, and light beer- the only liquid essentials for a summer excursion. Our Lady, the sun, stays out to play all day long. Only taking brief respite in the shade of thunderstorms, welcomed to break the heat. The fireflies come out to show off, and we admire their displays. Every night ends a bit later with the tinge of satisfaction from fun well-had.
There is an ephemeral excitement, as if anything is possible and will come to be. In summertime, you can go anywhere, do anything, and there is much more weight in the meaning of "Friday." Our weekends are each vacations in miniature.
Cameras come out, stories and anecdotes are all shared on Monday around the breakroom microwave, each of us pining for another glorious window of possibility that will come after a few days of "work."
Smiles and jokes pass easier. There is a sense of light and shine in the world. Enthusiasm and exhaustion take turns, making the days and weeks and moments fly by, the thrilling speed adding to the magic.
I just have to remember that these days of winter will somehow pass, although maybe never fly, and there will be that first day I don't have to wear a jacket. I will buy a new sundress and get that first tan line. I will see the beach with its seagulls and seashells again.
and I will see the sun again.
She just likes to make an entrance.