Our Last Summer Day

The art of letting go is never easy to master. It’s facile not to accept the truth of the world. The seasons pass, so does everything else. We’re all just a pawn of time. You can stand outside, screaming through the wind for summer to last. All you’ll have to show is a sore throat and bruised ego. Change is inevitable. It’s best to accept the impending autumn with open arms. Take the change before it overtakes you.

It wasn’t easy to see our summer was over. Our time of being together was coming to an end, there was nothing to do about it. Time was coming after us. There’s no dogging it, or avoidance, only progress forward.

I met him at the tree we carved our initials in. The ridgid letter still marks the skin of the old oak who would stand for years to come. Even after our initials change and flesh turn to dirt, he’ll stand proud and tall. But one day his summer will end, he’ll meet autumn as we did.

We went down to the lake by both our houses and stuck our feet in the body of water. This was the lake we originally met our first summer day. It was just as still as the last. We brought fishing string and attached it to the end of sticks as makeshift fishing poles. We never caught much, but what we did we released, never killed. We were just kids.

Cloud watching is something talked about a lot but never fully appreciated. Clouds have freedom. All they do is change. They have the freedom to be whatever they want. Once second it’s a bird, then a block, then a snake slithering over the sky. Multiple possibilities upon possibilities That are never ending till the clouds disappear all together. 

We laid there next to each other for some part of eternity, just a small bit of it. We didn’t talk or look at eachother. We just enjoyed each other’s presence. That’s the thing, sometimes when you’re so close to someone you don’t constantly have to be in conversation or doing something interesting together. You could just lay together on a hill in silence. Somehow being there the world just makes sense. Everything is still, sane and completely perfect. 

There’s part of both of us still there on those hills in the past.There will always be part of me there. Even when we both turn to dust, when the world ends, we’ll both be there in a place of our minds.

And there will be other summers beyond this and other autumns that fall behind it. Change isn’t always a bad thing. Change is the structure of life. Change is what builds us into the people we are. We learn from change and change with the changing change.

It’s good to move on though it may hurt.

There was a tire swing down the street. He and I would take turns pushing each other back and forth. The perpetual motion sometimes made me sick but overall was a good time. Back and forth, back and forth, the swing traveled with no end. One factor I loved was the consistency of it all. On a swing there’s no real place to be. It’s a suspension in time. There are no rules to swinging except maybe don’t fall off. 

When the afternoon was coming short, We made our way to the last stop. We walked in the grass, shoes not needed.The grass brushed under our feel and tickled our toes. It’s a feeling that can only be experienced yourself. The sun killed our skin with no mercy. Sunscreen is not even thought of in this mess of a day. Why would that concern us?

The last sunset of the summer day before the world came crashing in was spent well. The sun spilled over the land, struggling to escape it’s horizon’s grave. The breath of the world hit the back of my neck, bugs hummed somewhere off in the distance beyond our little existence. The grass cushions the ground we rest our heads upon.

Recounting it all makes it sound grander than it was. In reality, we were just two careless teens waiting to grow up. There’s nothing special about that, is there? It was special to me at least. It’s what made me who I am.

It didn’t happen all at once. Summer isn’t one moment that falls. It’s every leaf that lands at your feet. It’s the chill breezes that run down your spine who weren’t here before. It’s the imploding, crushing inevitable that chokes out any control of your own.

The best thing is to accept the change. That’s the only thing to do.

Beyond this, we’ll both live our lives. We’ll grow up to live on, separate paths to separate worlds of our own. He’ll be happy and so will I after this summer day. Maybe not soon but eventually I’ll be fine, I know it.

If only I could suspend this moment in glass to keep it forever. I wish I could bottle this memory to keep frozen, take in every breath as not to forget. But memories soon turn to sand, sand to dust, then they’re gone. 

We shared one final hug, one final kiss. I held his arm, then his hand, then his fingertips, then I let go. He was a different person when this began and so was I.

There were tears, not from sorrow or joy, something in between.

You’ll never get use to letting go, there is no real art to it. It’s something that happens to you, not because of you. You can run from people, places, but that doesn’t completely rid of the feeling of loss. 

Feeling these emotions is what makes us human. There is no running from what we are. What we are may not be fun at all times. We have to carry on, push through the bad to find the good in life. That’s all there’s to do.

This was our last goodbye.