It always happens the same way. People start buzzing about scarves, flannel and pumpkin spice lattes while I cry in a corner because summer is over. They treat me like I’m less than because I prefer sunshine over cinnamon. What can I say, I’ll take a one-piece over a pea coat any day.
It was a great summer. (Surprise surprise, it ALWAYS is!)
I went from Malaysia to Michigan, from Guatemala to Chattanooga, from a tent in the Smoky Mountains to a hut in Uganda.
I played volleyball until my knees were bloody and bruised. I jumped in the lake with my clothes on more times than I can remember.
I got LASIK and dyed my hair purple.
My house became a hostel – a constant flow of guests occupied our extra mattresses. I never knew who was living in our house or just hanging out. If I came home and there weren’t at least 10 people in the living room or around the kitchen table I thought something was wrong (had I been “left behind”??)
In August, after one of those off days at work I went for a run late at night to sweat off the stress. And then I did it every night after that. My roommates started to wonder if I was meeting up with a secret boyfriend or perhaps buying crack. In reality I was encountering Jesus on those dark, empty streets. Just me and him and the end of the day. And that dog that followed me the one time…
Oh yeah, a dog bit me when I was in Africa. Story for the grandkids? Check.
I didn’t attend any weddings (I think everyone is already married?) but I did go to a reunion. We talked about the old times and made plans for more new times to take place.
Baseball. Beach. Concert in the park. Iced chai lattes.
This is why I love summer.
For all you cardigan wearing, pumpkin carving, leaf crunching, Thanksgiving lovers out there…I hope you enjoy your crisp weather and apple pie.
In the meantime, you can find me in a dark corner, wrapped in a blanket and rocking back and forth trying to stay warm.
Here goes nothing.