I just wanted to have a quick chat with you about a little something, so I’d really appreciate a little bit of your time.
Our province is frigging stunning! No matter which part of it you call home, there is natural beauty everywhere you look. Our seasons are not distributed fairly, you’ve got to admit, and you, most pleasant season, are the most shy, it seems. You don’t stick around for very long at all. Winter, while my least favourite of all your colleagues, does have a certain charm. Autumn is so beautiful here — good thing, since dreaded winter follows. And spring, while it can go undetected between winter and summer, is oh so welcome!
This year, Summer. Well, this year I was looking forward to you more than ever because I planned on spending a fair bit of time overlooking the waters of Trinity Bay from our haven in Green’s Harbour.
But since the end of June, most of my time has been spent looking out a window from the fourth floor of the Health Sciences Centre. Our middle son suffered a bike accident, had some pretty intense surgery, got released after a week, but six days later, ended up back as a patient with some pretty severe complications.
Being the mother-ship, I am doing my job as cold-compress-fetcher, ice-water-pourer, and all around jack-of-all-trades for my injured boy. Now we’re nearing the end of July, he’s still a resident of a fourth floor room, and your season is just ticking by.
I must say, the sun this year looks particularly fetching … from the window. All the people coming and going from our parking lot view have clearly broken out their summer’s finest fashions. Can’t say I blame them. I’d give anything to be sooking about having to shave my legs before dragging on last year’s shorts, wondering how they managed to shrink over the long, dragged out winter.
Instead, the air conditioning in his hospital room is usually on bust, so while the outside world is sporting tanks and sandals, I’m usually found bundled in a sweater and wooly socks, looking for an extra blanket before bunking down at night in my reclining lawn chair.
Now, Summer, you’ve been known to sport your brilliance long enough to hook in tourists and cause locals to complain. Then you disappear, leaving us scratching our sunburned heads, talking about you with smart-alec phrases like, “I remember the summer of 2013; that was a stellar weekend!”
Can you not do that this year, please? We’re hoping to get this boy out, hopefully before the end of this month, so it would be nice if you kept a few good weeks of good weather on reserve. Think about it: with continued bright days, he can go on recuperating without a sweater on, and I can enjoy looking at my overgrown gardens up close, not worrying one bit about it as I sip something chilled and white.
Thanks to social media, we’ve been able to keep up with our peeps and their daily happenings, and I have to say, it’s not so much fun to look at the warm bright orb in the sky, not be able to feel it, but read complaints about it. That has never been us and will never be us, especially after these past four weeks.
If our boy was home, I’d be slapping on the sunscreen and breathing the sweet, sultry, fresh air. If you ever hear the words, “It’s some hot!” from me, it’ll be an observation, not a complaint!
So you see, dear Summer, while we really shouldn’t play favourites with our seasons, I have loved you best for as long as I can remember. I beg of you to stick around and serve your time as determined by our calendar. And with any luck, our middle son and I will get to enjoy what’s left, all the more.
Your greatest fan,
Email Paula Tessier at firstname.lastname@example.org.