SUMMER

Her name was Summer, she was the very paragon of the season. I'll never forget the first time that I saw her, sitting on the hood of her petite pea- green Volkswagen. Even her tiny carriage nodded to the sultry seasonal cycle. The torrid breeze nudged her long blonde braids as she scribbled devotedly in her caheir journal, unmindful to the elements around her.

I mousily made my way across the toasty sand and introduced myself. She invitingly smiled as she eyed me from behind her dark Oakley sunglasses. The slightest movement set off a jangle from the many beads that she wore around her neck. The tiny white flower tucked behind her ear was liberating a soft blossomy aroma. She was a picture of flawless perfection.

Our casual banter was quick-witted and animate and she graciously invited me to join her for a joyride along the coast. I was unable to take my eyes off of her as she giddily took control of the toylike machinery. I anxiously slipped into the overheated seat next to her. The warm wind riffled through the pages of her journal as she precipitously tried to catch the windswept pages.

I noticed that most of the pages were unattended and empty, I ached to be the inspiration for her future authoring. This girl named Summer whom I barely knew had capitvated my heart, mind, and soul so swiftly. My happy-go-lucky, carefree hippy girl and our summer of pea-green salaciousness.

The desire of the season passed us by much too vigorously. Each night I held her unyielding as if it were our last moments together. I breathed in every particle of her essence and tried to thoroughly memorize her touch. Each night I watched her completely captivated as she penned affairs onto her beloved journal. Sometimes she would mark the pages with a sprinkle of perfume or a dry, crumbling flower. Once she even clipped a small stand of my hair and lovingly taped it to one of the ivory pages.

Most of our time together was spent laughing and grooving as we sped away in that pea-green 4-banger. Summer taught me so much about life and love. She was knee-deep in peace and harmony. She yearned to protect the planet and everything that inhabited it. She protested for animal rights and cried deeply when she felt restricted in her endeavors. As I traced my fingers across her tanned-brown skin, I knew that this girl would someday make a tremendous, positive impact on the world around her. But first I had to let her go. I had to step away so that she could spread her wings and fly. -This was going to hurt.

I decided to pick up a journal of my own. Although this was something that I had never attained, I felt the need to document every moment with her. I chose a pea-green covered itinerary as a salutation to Summer. Each night as she jotted away, I also began scratching into my own book of memories. By the end of our journey together I had cultivated an assemblage of precious moments and unforgettable memories complete with photos and small tokens to assure that I would remember every detail.

Standing in the precise spot in which we had first met. I held my journal snuggly to my chest as if it were essential to my heartbeat. Inconsolable tears trickled down my cheeks as I watched Summer softly blow a kiss goodbye and the hopeless Fall season animated itself in the near future. before us. Our season was over, all that is left resides within this revered journal, grasped tightly in my trembling hands.

The scent of her floral perfume faintly fills in the pages. Collocations of each time that we made sweet love. Expressions, laughter, joy, and tears go from cover to cover. A single jaded photo tumbles into the sand. I choose to let it be, to leave it there deteriorating into the Earth. She'd like that, the thought of living forever within our most sacred place. To be one with the Earth that she so dearly fought for.

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness? People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy, and this was the best Summer of my life.