dear summer,
When I was a kid, you were the second most thrilling time of year. Wintertime always came out on top, of course, because… SNOW!
But summertime meant no school! And homemade popsicles! And staying up later! And bike rides to the Red Rooster! And a month in Vancouver with Poppa and Nonna and everyone else on this side of the Rockies!
I could be barefoot more often than not.
I could wear shorts more often than not.
I could be outside more often than not.
I remember my favourite outfit of all time: a pink seersucker one-piece ensemble with straps that tied at my shoulders. I felt so glamourous and sophisticated in that little pantsuit, even as the seersucker was scratching the life out of my fresh Crescent Beach sunburn.
Beauty is pain. I knew it even then.
But.
Summertime was the apple tree in bloom in the backyard on Waverley.
Summertime was the blue plastic pool on Tutshi, sending tiny ants out to sea on the BatBoat.
Summertime was barrel rolls down the toboggan hill with Shelley, grass stains on our knees and elbows.
Summertime was white sandals on Sunday mornings.
Summertime was Baskin Robbins on 49th, eating Golden Delicious Sherbet out of a small, polka-dot cup.
Summertime was pre-bedtime walks on Cannon Beach, whispering secrets to Margie.
Summertime was a week at camp, avoiding giant spiders and crashing windsurfers into old, faded docks.
Then summertime was camp for three months… for 15 years.
Did I really do it that long?
Whole staff-fulls of friendships.
Hundreds of pairs of flip flops.
Thousands of hours spent on boats circumnavigating the island, and on ferries to and fro.
So many cans of Coke consumed trying to stay awake that I fear my tan was really an overdose of “caramel colour.”
More crushes than I can recall, some of which only existed in memory until they existed again on my Facebook (huzzah!)
And most importantly, thousands and thousands of kids that I loved, and laughed with, and listened to, and saved from certain peril with Dean in a Whaler because they — like me, years before — could not tack to save their lives.
Now summertime is work of a different sort, at a job indoors where I do not have to convince 9 year-old boys that sunscreen won’t melt their skin off.
Now summertime is a warm apartment at the end of the day, offset by the most gorgeous sunsets on our deck.
Now summertime is friends visiting from far away.
Now summertime is our crazy Aussie bellowing from the deck upstairs, or Karen’s tan rocking harder than ours, or Presley in sundresses.
Now summertime is no one questioning my Havaiana habit.
Now summertime is dining on patios, whenever possible.
And now summertime is actually September, when we head off for our vacation on a real, live airplane.
But most of all?
It’s perfect. And freckly. And shining. And crisp and sweet and fresh like watermelon. And not over yet.
I love you, Summer.
Thanks for coming out.
Love,
Meg
August 3rd, 2007 at 4:12 pm
The Batboat, crewed by ants, rocked.
August 3rd, 2007 at 5:18 pm
I hear you… we just got back from playing on the sandbar behind Rob’s folks’ place. Sand dollars and hermit crabs and sea anenomes, OH MY.
I’m looking out their window right now at the ocean and backdrop of coastal mountains, crowned with big puffy clouds. And I’m wondering, what the HELL am I doing on a computer.
Off now… hope you have a lovely summery long weekend.
August 3rd, 2007 at 7:20 pm
I’ve always been partial to fall. But down here that’s a bit of a formality; summer memories spill all the way down into mid-October, and later if you can include jack-o-lanterns in them.
Visiting friends, and standing barefoot on the railings of their decks, goes any place in the year it wants.
As does having friends visit.
Here’s to summer, then.
August 3rd, 2007 at 8:46 pm
And I feel like summer is nearly over. Not the weather, of course, because I won’t reasonable temperatures until sometime in October, but we’ll be returning to school in another week. Now I’ll be waiting for winter too….
August 3rd, 2007 at 11:11 pm
Few will look back on summer ‘07 as full of wist as you are so affectingly above, Meg. June & July have deposited record quantities of water indiscriminately. We’re peeping cautiously through our well-washed windows now, hoping for an August that may provide the odd pleasant recollection!
August 4th, 2007 at 5:17 am
Visiting my folks out at Margate, NJ, this week reminds me of all of the summers of my youth. Chasing the Atlantic waves, daring them to knock me down, and then being flabbergasted when they do. Standing ankle-deep in the water and feeling my toes goosh in with each covering of seafoam. Eating way too much/many sub sandwiches, salt water taffy, popsicles, lemonade, steamers, cotton candy, watermelon, corn, frozen Snickers bars. Fireflies (no, not eating). DOLPHINS running up and down the shore.
But what I can’t regain are sprinklers. They are too cold and too small for my adult body. The neices and nephews bounce in and out and their shrill yelps make a symphony of fun. I sit with a Diet Coke and wish liliputian dreams for a minute, and then come back to center when I remember that I now have it in me to have bought all of them chocolate tacos on the beach just a little while ago.
August 4th, 2007 at 3:28 pm
Very nice. Love the last photo.
I must say that in my camp counselor days, I spent more time convincing little jim or whoever that the sunscreen does not go on the hot dogs.
RM
August 4th, 2007 at 9:08 pm
I heart summer. And you :)
August 4th, 2007 at 9:45 pm
Yum. You’ve captured the Vancouver summer perfectly. Now: we really have to sort out that meet-up, because it’s insane that we live this close and haven’t met yet.
August 5th, 2007 at 4:30 pm
The only bad thing about summer? It’s too short.