Uneasy Relationship

I love the summertime. It's my favorite season, and has been for years.

Of course we have our ups and downs, summertime and I, as even the best relationships do. Sometimes I need a little space - a cloudy day or a relief from the humidity so that I can sleep with all my covers on and enjoy my morning run. At other times I could use a little more summer than I'm getting, a little more sunshine, a little more heat, a little more time to dangle my legs in the swimming pool. There are times when I get bored with the summer and look back on the busyness of the school year and the coziness of snow days with a little bit of longing. But when summer and I are apart, I always look forward to getting back together.

And when summer does come again, though he starts out fickle and unpredictable, coming and going as he pleases and not always promising when he'll return, I feel happy every time he shows his face, and I know that if I'm patient, he'll eventually settle down and stay for a few months. We'll give it our best shot, and then summer and I will grow restless and agree that it's time to go our separate ways. We'll take a long break from each other, from October to April, maybe longer, and the time apart is good for me. It reminds me of what I loved about summer in the first place, and I am able to see that as much as I enjoy fall leaves and holiday smells and the first snow and fires in the fireplace, I really am happiest when summer is around.

But something has been different about this summer. This year, I have had a hard time trusting summer's commitment. He'll linger for an afternoon and I'll soak up the sunshine and feel warm and content in his presence, but he'll be gone the next day, leaving rain and a mild chill and no assurance of when he'll return. He's abandoned me at some crucial moments: a dreary and homesick day in Dublin, a good portion of the rest of my time abroad, my trip to the U.P., a weekend in the mountains in Colorado, a morning run in the pouring rain.

This has been hard for me. I want to believe in summer, but I'm afraid he'll leave before I get the chance. Normally our decision to part ways is a mutual agreement. I am able to recognize that summer is not always good for me, that sometimes I need to buckle down and get back to work, and that nature should be allowed to run its course. So I'm afraid that if summer stays fickle like this, if summer never really commits, then it will seem as though we never even really tried. Winter will come and leave me a little sadder and emptier and colder than usual because, as frustrated as I have been with summer this year, I will feel like he's gone before I was even allowed to want him gone.

I still have some hope. The 10-day forecast has us consistently in the 70s with occasional scattered thunderstorms through the end of July, but there's still August. That's a bit late for a Michigan summer (last year I was noticing the leaves fading before August had ended), but it could still happen. And if it doesn't, I can hope that summer will follow me out to Utah when I go there in mid-August, that maybe I can get some wonderfully miserable scorching heat and come back ready to be done with it all.

Until then, I'm putting up with this strange, cool, temperamental summer, running indoors once or twice a week, making contingency plans for outdoor activities, and enjoying the sunshine during the precious little time I have to enjoy it.