I want to find the woman that said I can’t wait for summer to get here on a brisk April day. I want her to stand outside the lobby of my building in the middle of the sidewalk. I want her to stand there for one hour. Then she can come inside and feel what a 35° drop in temperature feels like. So I found her. She lives in my building and though I forget her name I pass her in the lobby from time to time. She agreed to do it and afterward we sat down as I commenced to cross examine her.
Remember when you said you couldn’t wait for summer? Are your expectations being met?
Pretty much. But not like that. (pointing toward the street)
She’d been a good sport by entertaining me with testing my theory. Nice woman. 35ish.
When I say I love the Summer, I’m in a pool with a frozen margarita and no kids.
How many weekends this Summer is that gonna happen for you?
Errr six or maybe eight. I visit my parents. They have a pool.
And all of a sudden it hit me. Every Friday going home after work and getting the dog ready. Waiting for my other half. Walking to Grand Central and taking the Metro North to Fairfield, Connecticut. We were in our 30s through 50s and lived in an apartment across from the Midtown Tunnel for nineteen years. Allen (Dad) would pick us up and we’d stop at a Tavern for a quick beer before heading to the homestead. My parent’s house was beautiful. The backyard was out of a magazine. Seeing the sunset from their deck while escaping the city for a day or two. Wow. Meeting with friends that would drive down from Boston. What fun. I loved those summer days. Not these.
We share that in common. My parents had a pool. Enjoy this time of your life. It goes away.
I know it does. I’m starting to see my parents slowing down. It goes away.
Those after dinner conversations loitered with laughing so hard we’d choke. They go away.