I was just finishing up the dusting this afternoon and sitting down to write, when my friend Summer called and asked me to come out and play. This is not a metaphor. I do, in fact, have a friend. Her name is Summer. Her name is Summer even in the winter and in March which is who knows what around here. She's a lot like the Summer you might know - bright and fun and golden. She is. I promise, this is not a metaphor. She can always think of the best things to do and her D is the best of friends with my Hooligan and she laughs when I say careless, straight-faced things about children.
Summer called on the tail end of the dusting. Actually, that's a lie. She didn't call. She texted. I just hesitate to say such things because it makes me feel like half my age. Not in a good way. She texted and the Hooligan hollered over the vacuum: "Mooooom! Your phone beeped! I think you have a text!" He's a whippersnapper and much more comfortable with such language. My phone is dumb and flippant, so texting is an act of love. The tedious hammering out of Morse Code on a tiny screen. Beep beep - N. Beep beep beep - O. Delete.
Wait! Why would I say no to Summer?
I did not text this. That would have taken forever. Probably my phone, which is quite slow, would not stand for such nonsense. It was much easier to text back: "On our way." It was easier, but not easy, you know. All those beeps and counting letters and such. There was a flurry of screaming and nudity and beach towels and swimsuits and "where is my purse? I just had it!" and sunglasses and hats and "does anybody have to pee?" and we were off to find Summer.
Everyone needs Summer in their lives. To beckon you away from the things that are no fun. To send you messages unexpectedly that turn the afternoon upside down in the most delightful of ways. To remind you that there are moments to be seized and splashing to be done. To draw you out of flakiness and navel lint and dusting and stormy moods and just generally being yourself. To call to you and tell you to come out and play.
I have a Summer and she is golden. I'm so glad Summer called.
Summer called on the tail end of the dusting. Actually, that's a lie. She didn't call. She texted. I just hesitate to say such things because it makes me feel like half my age. Not in a good way. She texted and the Hooligan hollered over the vacuum: "Mooooom! Your phone beeped! I think you have a text!" He's a whippersnapper and much more comfortable with such language. My phone is dumb and flippant, so texting is an act of love. The tedious hammering out of Morse Code on a tiny screen. Beep beep - N. Beep beep beep - O. Delete.
Wait! Why would I say no to Summer?
"Sorry, I can't come and play with you in the sunshine on this perfect day because I am dusting. And then when I finish with the dusting, I plan to collect all that lint off that rag and stuff it in my navel so I can contemplate it and then write about it. I have certain standards to uphold, here. I can't just be out enjoying myself willy-nilly. There is twaddle to type. Get back to me when it is cold and gray and rainy and I am bored. Those are my power days."
I did not text this. That would have taken forever. Probably my phone, which is quite slow, would not stand for such nonsense. It was much easier to text back: "On our way." It was easier, but not easy, you know. All those beeps and counting letters and such. There was a flurry of screaming and nudity and beach towels and swimsuits and "where is my purse? I just had it!" and sunglasses and hats and "does anybody have to pee?" and we were off to find Summer.
Everyone needs Summer in their lives. To beckon you away from the things that are no fun. To send you messages unexpectedly that turn the afternoon upside down in the most delightful of ways. To remind you that there are moments to be seized and splashing to be done. To draw you out of flakiness and navel lint and dusting and stormy moods and just generally being yourself. To call to you and tell you to come out and play.
I have a Summer and she is golden. I'm so glad Summer called.
