Summer: the refreshing ripple of beer foam cresting over the lip of a pint glass
Dear Summer of 2014,
You sure were weird.
Please don’t take that the wrong way – I enjoyed your company immensely, of course. I always do, even when things aren’t so hot between us and we don’t connect immediately. Maybe we are simply resigned to share one of those relationships that’s fun and impetuous but never really works out in the end. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?
All spring I had that pit in my stomach that knots and pizza pretzels into an anxiety twist just thinking about you. Not even good thoughts, just reimagining your touch and the anticipation of making another sweet indulgence that we might both regret.
Do you regret? It’s hard to tell with you sometimes. Sunny and cheerful, stormy and full of bluster, it’s an emotional rollercoaster that I too often feel like I could do without. Then again, I sort of fell for your weird and everything that came along with it.
And then I see you. And I’m drawn into you, like a refreshing ripple of beer foam cresting over the lip of a pint glass, or the cascade of cloud burst caught mid bike-ride.
And now that it’s over and we’ve invariably wandered apart, I miss you. Of course.
I’m not sure when I’ll see you next – we never know. Hopefully in the hullabaloo of your hometown, but always together.