I’m sitting outside on a lovely September evening. I’ve been out here for almost two hours, and I brought the little Brie out with me. She has been lounging, rubbing herself in the grass, and most recently had the zoomies, which is always adorable. We’ve been playing her favorite game off and on the whole time we’ve been out here: chase Brie. I don’t even really have to chase her, just say “I’m gonna getcha,” and lunge at her. She takes off right away, or she rolls on her back for belly rubs. Either way, what bliss, for both her and me!
The air is perfect. Earlier the sun was hot, but under it the air and the breeze promised that once the sun had retired, all would be comfortable. It is.
Don’t get me wrong, I love summer, I really do. But it is just beginning to feel almost like fall here in the DC area, and I can’t help but have mixed feelings about it. First, there is relief that it finally won’t feel like pea soup outside, thick and wet and heavy and hot, and there is the resulting relief that I will no longer be required by the temperature to wear shorts if I don’t feel like wearing a dress or skirt.
There’s a tinge of sadness to the slow retreat of summer, though. It is a slow retreat here; it won’t truly be “cold” at night until around Halloween. My happiest childhood and teenage memories were made during summers. And although I have been in school part-time every summer since I began college, summer brings that sense of freedom, just as if I was still getting a break from “real life,” whether it be academia or working. I wonder if it’s always this way.