Summer

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Lord, the days seem so long. Once summer hits, they’ll seem even longer, each day blending into the next and before you know it, fall will have arrived. It’s not so bad in the spring and summer. The heat can become unbearable at times, but there’s always a lot of laughter and a lot of good memories. But right now, the days are so long.

I miss the summer days when he and I didn’t have very many cares in the world. We would drive out to the lake after work and sometimes even on our days off. We would park in his Mustang on the overhang and look out over the water. Sometimes he would sing to me. He would always tell me things I never knew. He’s a walking treasure trove of knowledge- anything I could ever want to know, he knew. I loved listening to him talk. It was such a nice change to be spoken to instead of yelled at, insulted, belittled.

Summers were a lot better when I was a kid. Bible camps, reading challenges at the library, swimming days at Grandma’s with my cousins, watermelon and pretzels and making playdough, dress up and make-believe. Once I became an adult it was the daily nine to five’s, or in my case, mostly one in the afternoon’s until ten at night’s, followed by immoral doings with my immoral friends until long after the sun had gone down, sometimes until the sun began to come up.

Once I became an adult, the summers lost most of their appeal. While I was glad my children have the season off from school, I still have to work and they have to be somewhere. By the time I get off and get done with the errands and chores, I’m too exhausted for swimming pools and cantoloupe and homemade playdough, as was in my childhood. The kids don’t seem to mind, but I mind.

The lake was the next best thing to the ocean. My mind was clear when we were parked near the lake. The air was cleaner, crisper. The colors were brighter. Life was lighter.

Maybe it’s just something about being near the water in the summer that makes everything alright. Maybe it’s being out of that poisonous relationship. Maybe it’s something about Him. Maybe it’s all of these things, maybe it’s none of them at all.

 

 

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