Summer? Is that you?

I’m tired of playing games with you, Summer.  We need to be honest with ourselves.  It just isn’t fair for us to dance around like this, hoping to catch a glimpse of one another but fearing the consequences of that chance sighting.  What can go wrong, Summer?  Why can’t we live like we used to:  sitting together and painting the setting sun as the air grows cooler; chugging homemade lemonade after prancing around the broken sprinkler in the back yard; walking up the gravel road south of  the house, looking for ripe plums to peel for Mom’s jam jars; kissing the leaves of the first vegetables sprouting in the garden, hoping a little extra love will help them survive in a tough, dry world; wearing sundresses every day because we just don’t feel like putting pants on; what happened, Summer?  Where are you?

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