Muses

Musing on Disposable Summers.

Diapers (thank God), dinnerware, flip-flops.

Today we consume and throw away things 30 years ago we never would have thought to.

Televisions, microwaves break —  we toss them.

* * *

Just finished an Anne Rivers Siddons novel, Off Season.

Completely engrossed in the last third of the book, of all Lilly Constable McCall’s life story, only one line stayed with me. It stamped into my emotional well with an unwieldy metal embossing seal.

Lilly’s father was talking to her after a tragedy had drawn the 11 year old up to her room removing her from the world.

“You may not think so now, but you can’t afford to waste a summer. Nobody can, not even somebody as young as you. I remember how it felt, thinking you had all the time in the world left, but that’s not always true. You know that. Don’t throw these summers away, darling.” (emphasis mine.)

Don’t throw these summers away.

Don’t throw these remaining days of summer away — that’s what called to me. Don’t bemoan hot, dry, no rain. Don’t complain hot and sticky when it does.

Swim, lie in the sun.

Don’t curse car seats burns my ample rear. Thank God I’m wearing shorts rather than layers of clothing. (People would think me mad if I left the house half-dressed anyway.)

Breathe deeply of tomatoes fresh from the garden and dust and walking in the bright light after 7:30 p.m.

Choose grateful acceptance of heat, sun and salt over emotional lies rehearsed for decades.

Summer in all it’s imperfection should be spilled out and enjoyed.

What are you going to do with this summer day?

 

 

           

           

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