Hello again. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?
As I write you this letter, it is the start of a new month. June. Your first month. A new beginning.
I am so excited to see you again. The past few months with your siblings have been rough to say the least. Winter and Spring have been bickering since January, setting record high temperatures and freezing cold days in the same week. It has certainly made for an eventful few months. I hope you will be a little kinder.
I have been longing for your hours of daylight, your baking heat and your clear blue skies. Your skies are forever and always the bluest blue I will ever see, deep and rich in a way that your sibling’s skies are not. I cannot wait for your wild storms, so sudden and ferocious. Your thunder is fiercer than any I have ever heard, your rains more striking than any other season. After you throw us a storm, the whole world feels new. I can step outside and taste the acidity of your rain on my tongue, breathe in the clean air. During your time, it is warm enough that I can dance in the storm if I want to, barefoot and soaked to the bone. What an incredible gift that is.
Summer, have I mentioned that I love your warmth? I can swim, water ski, and go on so many adventures during your months. I cannot wait to dive into the water and not freeze. Summer, you have given me some of my fondest memories. In your months, I can hear the quaint jingle of the ice cream truck down the streets of my neighborhood every day. I remember as a child running down my driveway, heedless of the burning asphalt, chasing after that truck. I remember setting up countless lemonade stands at the end of my driveway during your months, running around with my friends, going to summer camps and spending time outside. Summer, you are the time when I feel like I can connect the most with the natural world. Thank you for that.
We cannot forget, summer, that I was born during your reign. In the sweltering month of August, my twin and I announced our entrance to the world four months too early. We were supposed to be born in December. Instead, we are Leo’s, born during your hottest month. I do not think we were made for December’s icy winds; we thrive too much in your sun. Whenever I hear your name I think of birthday cake and blowing out candles, catching the dripping wax with my fingers.
I know that you are just settling in, Summer, and are probably already tired. I will not bore you for too much longer with this letter. I simply wanted to let you know how deeply grateful I am to you and how much I enjoy your company. I’ve missed you, and I cannot wait to spend time together over the next few months before your sibling Autumn comes crawling back home.