summer's gone, again

1 - summer nights

The sonorous sounds of summer filled the humid night. The rustle of trees dancing, the songs of cicadas in the distance, a refreshing breeze caressing the starlit world. She sat in the backyard, wearing a white t-shirt and black shorts, stretched out in the grass, feeling the blades touch her skin.

They had just moved here from the big city a week ago. Boxes filled the house, everybody too exhausted to unpack. It was all in a rush, a frantic race to get out and move somewhere secluded, somewhere far away from the life they left behind.

It was just her and her mom, living in a small town across the country. No friends, no family, no acquaintances, just them.

‘Dayoung, dinner!’ bellowed from the kitchen window. Dayoung slowly stood up, looking into the quiet reflecting pond beside her. Her reflection rippled and danced, the moon behind her, the galaxy shimmering in the dark blue sky.

Dinner was quiet, no words filled the air. Spoons and chopsticks rhythmically clanged against cheap, plastic bowls- a feast of rice, a simple soup, and leftover spam. It was all they could afford.

Her room was small, quaint, filled with a floor futon, a small desk, and a window pouring in subdued moonlight. The window was open, the wind invited in. The melodious summer symphony filled the room- crickets chirping, cicadas singing, frogs bellowing, trees rustling. The scratch of pen on paper percussively joined the night.

2 - beneath the moonlight

Two weeks had passed since they moved.

Dayoung spent her days walking the quiet, quaint streets shopping, exploring, and trying to make a new friend. Her dialect sounded too northern, too official, too regular. Their dialect sounded too southern, too colloquial, too far away. The words she spoke had ancestors going back hundreds of years, a history that was tied to her tongue and the family she came from. Their words had ancestors going back hundreds of years, a history that she didn’t understand, a history that she didn’t belong to.

The summer sun held her in its arms as she sat in a small park near a convenience store. There was only a swing set and a small slide with chipped paint and clear age, a slide that might be older than she was.

The squeak of rusty chains attached to an uncomfortable, metal swing filled the quiet park. Eventually a mom and little girl walked up, the little girl immediately running towards the aging slide, squeaking in delight. The mom lit a cigarette and leaned against the swing set, taking a long drag.

‘You’re new in town, huh?’ Plumes of smoke trailed behind every word.

“Yeah.”

‘Don’t know why anyone’d move to a place like this.’ Another long drag. The little girl kept herself in a loop- sliding down, giggling, running back up, sliding down.

“Divorce.”

The mom laughed beneath her breath, smoke coming out like a dragon. ‘Yeah, been there.’ Another drag. ‘You’re quiet, kid. You alright?’

“Yeah.”

The mom laughs, tossing the cigarette butt in the trash and grabbing another one to light. She sits on the swing next to Dayoung.

‘No you ain’t. But that’s okay. We’ve all gotta be not alright sometimes.’

The mom takes a long drag, embers dancing off the end of her cheap cigarette.

‘Jiyae.’

“Dayoung.”

‘Nice to meet you, kid.’ Jiyae pats her on the back as Dayoung quietly stares into the distance. ‘Just remember, divorce is messy for the parents and the kid. Cut ‘em some slack.’

Dayoung looks up, her eyes welling up, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

‘And cut yourself some, too.’

3 - moonlight

Three weeks had passed since they moved.

It was the last week of summer.

Three acoustic guitar notes played at the start of every measure, laced with piano and a quiet, rhythmic shaker in the background. It was just her in the backyard again, looking up at the stars, listening to music in her earbuds. She listened with the volume low enough to still hear the songs of cicadas and the trees dancing along.

Summer was almost gone. The cicadas would return to sleep, the frogs would quiet their songs, the wind wouldn’t feel the same. The stars would get less bright, the sun would get less warm. The reflections in the pond wouldn’t look the same.

Summer was almost gone and, for some reason, she felt like it would never come back.

Her eyes glistened in the moonlight as tears began trailing down her cheeks.

The song of cicadas used to tell her it was time to relax. It used to be a prelude to something great- a melodious symphony of time with her friends, time away from school, time to relax, to live, to spend every day with her parents.

But now it’s a coda, an ending to a symphony that will never play again.

Her wails fill the waning summer night.

Summer was almost gone.

Not over,

gone.

4 - summer memories will always keep you warm.

Dayoung laid in the grass long after her tears dried up. The song played on repeat, holding her in its arms as a simple drum started playing along the guitar and piano. Glistening rivers lined her cheeks.

Summer was almost gone,

the cicadas were almost done with their symphony,

the heat of the sun would never feel the same,

but the summer memories will always keep her warm

no matter how cold it gets.