I’m changing our Facebook status to “It’s complicated.”
I remember those early, heady days in June. We smiled and laughed. Your breeze tousled my hair. Your whimsy flooded my senses. Routines be damned, we joked. My son joined us on our adventures. His youthful energy, the steady metronome pulse beat to our days, filled us with enthusiasm and new ideas. The early morning dew on the grass gave off that warm smell that comes laced with strawberries and hope.
Those were the good days. They were the ones we need to remember.
As our relationship progressed Into July, however, you became difficult. Your fiery temperature burned through me. The glow that had previously given me a light warmth now caused me to feel the pain of your burning desires. That glowing fireball of sun drenching me in heat, causing me to be sickly sweaty, turned my skin rouge. My son’s enthusiasm toward our adventures waned in the way that children’s interests are wont to do. Yet, despite that, you clung to me like the sweat drenched hair at the nape of my neck.
We began bickering, you and I. Those early romantic dreams we had of relaxing poolside slowly faded into the distance. I turned to look behind me, only to see my dawdling child, complaining as he struggled to respond to my constant pleas at forward motion. Your heat, your perseverance, your constancy. All those things that at first attracted me now niggled at the back of my brain. “Why?” The whispering voice questioned. “Why did you fall so hard, so fast?”
My voice turned raw as the weeks continued. As you reigned down upon my son and I, I repeated requests constantly. I slowly felt myself morphing into a harpy. Waiting for the magical hour when you would slink away into the night, my son and your sun both sleeping for as few hours. That respite. That sweet relief from you.
You lingered, taunted, hinted at what we had. The glimpses I saw of those early days nagged my conscience. We should be enjoying these fleeting times. My son, people tell me, will grow so quickly. He will soon not want to be with me. Savor these times together. The guilt, oh the guilt, that wracked my brain and my heart as every day I waited, sometimes patiently sometimes not, for that magical hour you went home for the day. Yet you consumed so much of my energy that I wished away the moments only to find that the days and weeks rapidly vanished behind me.
August, oh my August. You, Summer, heckled me that month. We moved beyond mere annoyance to almost full on hatred. You wracked my brain with your onslaught of warmth. You wore me down. You humbled me as I struggled to negotiate with you. Relentless, you ignored my ongoing pleas for reprieve. You hounded me. You stalked me. I became a blubbering mess transforming into a harpy then transfiguring into a zombie.
And so here we are. The end of August. We’ve had a good run you and I and my son. We’ve done our best. We tried to overcome our differences. We tried to work together. We tried to iron out our differences.
But, Summer, we need to take a hiatus. I’m not breaking up with you. I can’t. You are tied to my youth and to my child’s youth. You bring with you the hope and promise that come with youth. I adore all that you represent and all that you have given me. We are meant to be together, but we need to share ourselves with others. I need to spend time with Autumn, Winter, and Spring. I’m not cheating on you, I swear. I will always love you for who you are.
But, not for 12 weeks straight. 12 weeks is too long.
And no, it’s not me. It’s you.
And so, as we take a hiatus from one another, as I gleefully drive my child to school in a week, I will keep you in my heart always. I will remember the good times and the bad times. I will look back upon your glowing personality during the frigidity of Winter when I need the warmth of your Summer sun on my face.
But, I can’t any more. I need to keep the best of you in my mind. I need to glamorize you. I need to walk away. Don’t look back, my love, my Summer. We will meet again.
Our relationship is enduring.