Dear Summer 2012,
You were certainly not what I expected you to be. You were crazy, wonderful, fleeting, heartbreaking, inspiring, unsettling and refreshing all at once. You taught me quite a lot, but not about the things I expected to learn.
I will remember you in melancholy vignettes; in short but vibrant bursts of color and sound and smell. Night swimming in Hobbs pond. Running across campus in the pouring rain for paperwork I didn’t need. Cup of coffee number 5 for the day. Sleep-deprived sunrises on lonely beaches. The smell of bait fish salting on the docks. Gin and tonic, white wine, and Sam’s Summer Ale. Sparkles and sequins and hot tears on pavement. Fog and drizzle and crickets and fireflies. Island hopping and diesel engines and salty skin.
You connected me with some people who I am certain will be a part of my life for a long time, even if only in spirit and influence. Others will largely fade from memory, much like your details, in the relentless continuum of time and experience. But in this final week I am not sad to say goodbye to you, Summer. For as amusing as you have been, you have also been exhausting. You have been as frustrating as you have been liberating. As tragic as you have been comical. As tumultuous as you have been necessary.
So here’s to you, Summer 2012. Here’s to long days, hard work, joyful exploration, art, love, transience, and youthful levity. Here’s to the open road, whose call I will answer in the coming days. Here’s to the next step, whatever that may bring.
With love and gratitude,