The end of summer brings with it the beginning of school, letting us just have fleeting memories of our summer. The warm breeze, children laughing and playing, lazy afternoons. But nothing can last, and soon the summer time, the epitome of a bliss, is over, and with its’ disappearance, there is work to be done, coats to be found in the backs of closets, half-empty bottles of sun-tan lotion to be thrown away. The summer leaves behind it’s small trail of freckles on our skin, that we will wear proudly for a few months, showing off and exchanging just how fun and sun-filled our summer had been.
But it is over. The rain has come, soaking everything in a deep grey and a bitter cold that breezes through your thin shirts that in time, you learn to abandon, to save for next summer, in exchange for thick turtlenecked sweaters that itch, but at least keep you away from the crisp cold that chills you to the bone.
And when you are sitting, ensconced in the warmth of a home or a classroom, your mind wanders idly to the days of summer that seem like a type of utopia to you.
The rain pours on, the cold seeming endless.
But it is not. It will eventually fade, bringing with it the rebirth of everything. Everything will be green, new, young. There will be the high-pitched chirp of baby birds, the new buds on the lips of plants.
And soon your freckles will again be darkened by the constant rays of sun falling upon them, the summer coming soon, bringing with it a rejoice that allows all to laugh again, to be carefree, to change their dismal mood that matched the weather to one that is buoyant, full of life.
Summer will come again, and go, and life will go on, changing, bringing hope and love and remorse that will all fade away in time, just like the freckles that are brought by the sun’s kisses upon summer skins.