Changing Frocks, Changing Seasons: I Am Summer, Hear Me Roar.
|So long, summer...|
I felt it this morning, in the whiff of crisp air that snatched my unruly long hair, whipping it back from my face. Autumn. Fall. Call it what you will. It's almost here, the one season I'm loathe to welcome this year and yet when it arrives, I'll wrap my arms around it and hold it tight.
These changing days, in between seasons, when you're not quite here, or there. My mind seems wrapped in a fog, unable to make simple decisions, -dress, tights, heels, boots? No, not boots, not quite yet. Late summer lingers through windows, covering floor boards and dusty bookshelves in splinters of dappled sunshine. Yes, dappled, bite me. I want to lock it all up and throw away the key.
Last week, I stormed down city streets, wedges firmly strapped on, floral-printed frock flying in the breeze. Determined strides. I came face to face with another lady, dark-shaded suit, thick tights and boots. She was Winter; I was Summer. From across the road, we glared. Eyes widened, nostrils flared. Taking in each other's attire. Really? I mean, REALLY? Boots? I shuddered. Wedges, she tutted. Silently, we passed on the crossing, careful not to brush. I-wish-you-were-dead eyes, staring dead ahead. It was a moment in time, an unspoken duel. Subsided.
And yes, I know. Soon, we bid adieu to our beautiful summer, but for now lets enjoy the last of our lazy afternoon strolls and those oh-so-blissful ice cream kisses. Just a few more days, yes? Yes. Say yes. Even if you're thinking, no. Yes? Yes.