Cate watching the sun set behind Lake Barkley.
Oh, Summer, where are you going? We’ve enjoyed you, that’s for sure. Ever spring I anticipate you’re arrival … the sunshine and its remains evident by tan lines, cook-outs with kabobs and corn, visiting the lake, swimming, reading more books because the TV is on less, baseball games and vacations.
I’ve taught my daughter to enjoy you, Summer. She likes be in and around the water, just like me. Her confidence has grown from needing/wanting a noodle to free her to kick around the pool to kicking around the pool toward a noodle. See, look at the freedom and confidence you’ve prompted …
OK, so maybe not every last moment was happy. But we won’t remember this. We’ll remember the laughs, ice cream treats, walks in humid air and road trips. We got in one vacation, where it was really hot. But different than Kentucky hot. But I guess you, Summer, know all about the different kinds of hot.
But, you know, we’re going on a second vacation before you leave us. It’s far, far away, so far, in fact, that you won’t be there. We’ll meet your friend Winter on the other side of the globe. When we return, I think we’ll still feel you, Summer, but Fall will be coming, bringing football and corn mazes. And I’m OK with that, even though I’ll be anxiously awaiting your return long before you’re ready to come back.
Just know, dear Summer, you’re special to me. And now to Cate.