Summer rain can be a lovely thing. A warm evening shower after a hot humid day can be soothing and relaxing. The sound of soft rainfall can be pleasant to drift off to sleep by. Splashing through a puddle or two can bring back happy memories of childhood.
But this morning, I’m sick of it.
It’s August. Yes, it’s late August, but it’s still August, and in my mind that means that summer should still be in full swing. I should be swimming in the pool every day, going for walks in the sunshine, wearing shorts every day, and needing to water my garden. But instead, for the past few days I’ve been wearing jeans and sweatshirts, avoiding having to run errands, and gazing sadly at the pool cover full of puddles and fallen leaves. It’s dark and it’s dreary and I want my summer back. I’m not ready to be done yet!
The funny thing is that I love the fall, too. I love watching the leaves change colors, I love the crisp earthy smell, I love the cooler weather, I love seeing the kids at the bus stop with their backpacks and their excited back-to-school faces. But I’m just not quite ready for it yet. I need a few more cookouts, a few more poolside dinners, even a few more humid sleepless nights of turning the pillow over and over looking for the cool side. I want to hang on to the smell of suntan lotion and bug spray. I want to hear one more late-night party on the neighbors’ porch. I want the feeling of beach sand between my toes one more time.
Fall, with its rain and drear as well as its sights and smells, is welcome to come. But not until I’m ready for it. And I’m just not ready for it yet. So rain, rain, go away. Come again another day. September 30th or so should be just about right.
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