A Letter to Summer

Dear Summer:

I understand you'll be going away soon.  Initially, I thought I might persuade you to stay a while longer. Perhaps another trip to the Vineyard would change your mind? I could try to score some Red Sox tickets for us. Heck, I’ll buy you all the gelato you want! I’ll overload your closet with perilously short sundresses in all your favorite blindingly bright hues and serve watermelon at every meal. I promise, you can even use the good beach chair this time.

Still, I respect your position on the issue. If you stick around too long, Autumn gets cheated, and then we’re all stuck with Jack Frost longer than we’d like. Look, I don’t want to come off as disrespecting my elders, but the guy is infamous for overstaying his welcome, particularly, here, in the Northeast, where I am from. Not to mention, he could really lighten up around mid February. I mean, dude, just because you’re single doesn’t mean that you need to put the deep freeze on all the lovebirds just trying to go out for a nice meal on Valentine's Day. Seriously, are you still THAT bitter about April giving you the cold shoulder, like, how many centuries ago? Quit the pity party, pal; she’s not your type! She flirts with everyone.  You should know that by now.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you when you say that the only constant in life is change and nature abhors a vacuum. You’ve made that painfully clear every year of my entire life, but you can’t cut me some slack? Just. This. Once. Please, spare me the malarkey about being like the poor meter-maid who’s already written the ticket and can’t recant it once it’s “in the system.” You MUST have more authority than that. Delay your flight. Stay an extra week—or 12. For the love of God, at least consider a LAYOVER! Puh-leeeez. You’ve always been my favorite, Summer. That line about liking Autumn was a load of bull. She makes me anxious. At any moment, she's liable to go chilly on me. A gal can’t live like that!

[Insert grimace]. Oh, my. Now, look what you’ve done. You’ve shamed me in front of our mindful Intent readers. I’ve been caught desperate and begging . . . for the manipulation of Mother Nature, no less! What next—they’ll discover that I'm not voting Obama in November? (Kidding! It was hard just typing that for effect).

With any luck, the om guys and gals out there will understand my angst as a simple error in judgment and an attachment to my own selfish ego rather than an appreciation for the interconnectedness of all living things, the natural order of the universe. Of course, you need to take a holiday, Summer. I understand. You deserve it. The foliage always gets so giddy when you go anyway (it’s a shame you can’t see it!). Plus, the air smells amazing. Did I mention that colorful tights are going to be HUGE this season? And, let’s be honest; I didn’t have a prayer at getting those extra Sox tickets. It’s practically playoff season.

With love,

Om Gal