(This post would best be read while listening to In The Summertime.)
It may only be the end of May, but summer is forcing itself on us quicker than usual. Massachsetts went from dark and cold, rainy days to humidity and sunshine over night. Am I aware that this probably won’t last? Sure. But I’m reveling in it while it’s here. Customers are happier, exclaiming, “Have a good weekend!” and smiling when otherwise they would be somber. Girls are wearing tiny shorts and flip flops and you can’t forget the sunglasses. I love sunglasses, even though I am a wearer of “corrective lenses” and I refuse to submit to the optomistrist-pressure of contacts.
Usually around this time of year, I think about tanning. I lament the fact that I do not have tan skin and I try to ignore the fact that I will never really be tan. Sure, I’ll get a tan. I’ll turn pink first, regardless, and my skin will darken just a little bit. Around this time of year I’m reminded that I should probably get perscription sunglasses. I think about how I miss the days when I had an entire summer stretched before me.
I remember bike rides around the cranberry bogs, buying slushes and making many stops to the public library. There’s a certain carefree feel about these months, even when I do work forty plus hours a week (And during the day, no less! It takes up most of the good beach time). I make pacts with myself not to take advantage of this weather. I want to appreciate it for exactly what it is so that maybe by the time winter comes I won’t be so upset that it’s gone.
I am going to focus on living in the moment more. When I think about the vacation week I have coming up, I’m already dreading the fact that it will be over. When I think about trying to make plans, I don’t want to because it will “waste” a day I have all to myself. Instead I want to plan with gusto, but not over plan. I want to spend my vacation doing everything I wish I could be doing while I’m at work. And I want to return to work feeling refreshed, renewed and relaxed. This requires a lot of sunshine, not a lot of money spending and, I’m just going to come out and say it, yoga.
(I should start my yoga practice now so that by the time it’s vacation week I slide easily taking my practice too seriously).
It’s interesting how I can remember moments of my childhood summers so vividly I could practically taste those memories. Hiding out in my basement after we had to leave John’s Pond because it was thundering, naming a pile of rocks and the area around it Egypt, falling into a thorn bush because there were bugs in my face and I lost balance on my bike, diving into the pool after that to clean my cut up legs, hiding candles by tree trunks so we had something to play with, collecting stones and calling ourselves gypsies, reading Frankenstein while listening to August and Everything After on a camping trip. I used to camp all of the time with my family. I remember going to find a bathroom with my brother, we were probably eight and five. And we got lost on the way back to the camp because we were one road over from where we should have been. There was this place we used to go to that had a slide that went right into the pond. My cousin told me if I went down the slide with my hands in circles over my eyes a certain way, I’d go down faster. I remember trying this out. I remember the slide at my grandparents’ house, we probably spent all summer there.
I remember the summer of 2005 as being one of my favorites. I had themed parties every Thursday, and worked two jobs. Harry Potter parties with costumes and movies. A luau with a drunken girl and my cardboard cutout of Elvis got leied. A ridiculous pizza party. Soda cans keeping cool in the kiddie pool Shaylin and I bought (and hung out in with drinks and fancy glasses).
For some reason I can barely recall memories from other times of the year. Unless they are very specific to a time of year, or place.
I want this summer to be one to remember because every summer, ever moment should be one to remember. And it’s a lot easier to remember it if you were there, soaking in the entire atmosphere, showing up to your life and living in that exact moment.