When I think of the summertime, I think mostly of my youth. I think of days without school and without adult responsibilities. I remember the invigorating feeling I used to get from just smelling the freshly cut grass. Summer felt like possibilities and the future. It felt positive and exciting. It still does, just not as strongly now that I’m middle aged.
During the winter I would think more about home, my local town and my family. Maybe that was because my folks rarely took vacations during the winter, but instead focused their efforts on the cold-weather holidays that were close to the safety of home and comfort of familial ties.
But during the summer my mind would wander more. I thought quite often about what could be down the road a bit — both in terms of time and of distance. I remember many summer days when it was too hot to roam around outside — I would lie on my bed in the breeze of the ceiling fan and stare at the U.S. map on my wall. I would think about what life must be like in other parts of the country — the people, the food, the accents and the scenery I would discover. The thought of that adventure awaiting me out there would make my heart flutter. The only thing that comes close to that feeling was being in love. Come to think of it, I moved almost 3,000 miles to the west of my hometown during one of my younger summers — and that was for love waiting at the other end of the five-day journey. Summer has always been the start of new things for me — new habits, new relationships, new jobs, new life.
Now that we’re getting a taste of summer, what are you thinking about? What does summer now and in the past, make you think about? What does the summertime mean to you? Or are you more of a winter person?
Now that I’m done writing this column, I’m going outside. For the moment at least, it seems to be summer and adventure awaits.
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