The world is ever changing; every day, decade, generation.
Arguably, due to global warming, so are the seasons. Extreme weather conditions or not though, thank goodness, they stoically appear, every year, demarcating, comforting, offering us amidst all the flux and change, something reliable to latch on to. But for how long still?
It is summer once again and I smell of dusty earth and sunshine today, just as I did on a sizzling day in Costa Rica years ago. The kids scream and splash in their pools here just like the kids in our old neighborhood. Siblings and friends jump through sprinklers as my sister and I used to in our backyard many years ago.
The beaches are more jam packed than when we were kids, but sitting under our umbrella munching on grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, cream filled doughnuts and washing it down with icy lemonade I am nine again. And later we will float and splash and dive in the sea just as our parents did.
Strolling along, the sun beats down and begins to prickle my sweaty neck and forearms and I remember four best friends, lying like sardines on a grill, slathered in oil as they tanned and chattered away on a broiling patio in Toronto.
The voices from the nearby bistros and bars remind me of summer evenings as a small child drifting off to sleep with the sound of adult voices floating in through the open windows. I think of free and invincible motorcycle runs, later on in life, to avoid the long line of cars going to the beach at the weekend, racing barefoot on sizzling sand, fear of the dark depths of a lake, paddle boats, badminton, ice cream cones and popsicles, first kisses, dancing under the stars, warm soft breezes carrying the scent of coco and vanilla, tousled hair, barbecues, camping trips, pick up trucks loaded with supplies, pets and friends, rumpled clothes, tired scorched bodies and happy hearts and minds.
Summer will lead into autumn, then winter and spring and summer once more. Each season bringing its own special qualities; connecting us to those before and those that will come; waves and cycles and birth and death and then again and then again and then some. For now.
Photo by Elaine Bernadine Castro