So long, summer

Yes, I know what you're thinking. The Dashboard Confessional song is called "So Long Sweet Summer." But I'm not 14 anymore, and it's not 2001, and I don't listen to that song anymore because it still really does make me feel like the fact that summer is over will make me completely depressed for decades to come. And I don't actually feel that way at all.

Speaking of something else, which we weren't, I thrive on routine. I know most people do, so I don't consider that an earth shattering revelation. As much as I've been completely smitten with summer and having nothing to do except be around people I love, my brain is sort of free-floating around in my skull, while it likes to be tightly tethered to its post with a to-do list, a plan, something stable that I can have maximum control over.

So, summer, since you're on your way out the proverbial door, it's been great. I really enjoyed what we had. But… it's not you. It's me. I've realized I have needs. These needs must be met. Or my thighs and waistline will expand faster than you can say "helium balloon." Don't take this too personally. I think you're great. You have so much to offer. Hey, in another year, our paths will cross, and we'll spend time together again, with swimming suits, watermelon chunks, linen skirts, Target sandals, and sunscreen. Until then… I'm going to be spending more time with my good friend, Autumn. We'll be running in the crisp morning air around Palo Alto, meandering around pumpkin patches, making family-recipe Butternut Squash Soup, and not sitting in a swimming pool all day munching homemade cookies. Instead I'll indulge in wooly socks and anything cooked with cinnamon. There may even be a basket-weave hand-knitted scarf or two involved.

Don't take it too hard. We had some great times. I will always remember the tan you gave me and that time I burned my hands on my steering wheel after my car sat in the Las Vegas sun for an hour in an asphalt parking lot.

But you and I both knew this day was coming.

Not-really-so-much yours,
S.A.R.

PS Would you please apologize to Harry for giving him that scalp sunburn? It's not right to treat him that way just because we buzzed all of his hair off.