It's here.
It’s over folks. The end.
Don’t get me wrong. I am a Midwest boy at heart (and Michigan people don’t get me started – you are not in the Midwest or anywhere close). I grew up with this. This is normal. It always ends like this.
And it causes me crippling, unwavering depression.
Up here (re: north) it is ephemeral. A fleeting glimmer of wonder that happens for not very long every year. Summer is over. Unfortunately, this is how it goes. It seems like it will never get here and then it’s gone.
It used to last a little longer than it does now. Target and Walmart start summer’s eulogy a little earlier each year. School supplies shouldn’t come out until at least August, but I think they arrived in June this year.
August hurts enough already. Sheer mention of that month makes me cringe. As each day passes another something reminds us of the impending departure of warmth, but none more powerful than Labor Day.
They say Memorial Day is the unofficial start of summer and Labor Day is the unofficial end, but let’s face it; summer arrives like a sketchy thug at red light – a slow creep, rims still spinnin’. Memorial Day isn’t the start of summer. It’s the longer days and warm weather that arrive in April. It’s the 90 degree Wednesday in May that warrants a call into work because you’re “sick.” It’s a switch in your brain that says, “Yeah, I can wear short pants again.” Summer is a state of mind.
However, it’s as much as state of mind as thinking you are going to win the lottery when you pick up a Powerball ticket at the corner store. A state of mind that can be crushed by the unfair reality that Cletus in southern Arkansas just won or by the edges of a green leaf on your favorite tree going orange.
Summer’s is akin to a hot beverage: that first sip is wonderful, but you know you took it too early – you may have even burned yourself, as if you didn’t remember how damaging this heat can be. You must be patient and enjoy it as it becomes tolerable, sip by sip until it is just right, and then before you know it you are left with the last few drops of cold reality. It doesn’t taste as good as it once did, it’s too close to the end, it’s too cold, but you drink it anyways knowing that you can’t just go buy another summer, you will have to wait through the hours of dark, chilly, uncertainty until morning comes and it begins again.
Summer is over. Drink what remains in your cup, but know that this cup of joe has been sitting on your desk for too long. It’s cold, it’s getting colder, and there is no microwave in sight.
Happy Labor Day! Go grab yourself a pumpkin spice latte, you’re going to need it – winter is here.
