Oh, sure, there'll be plenty of beautiful days between now and the dreadful, loathsome, hideous season known as, win... win... wint... um... that dark time between Fall and Spring.
And my sister MB and I both fervently believe that summer's not really over until Columbus Day . . .
But the world of long days and hot weather and endless swimming opportunities... Sayonara to all that, until next June.
This summer will always be the summer that Dad died, and although my mom claims she'll always hold a grudge against July -- and why shouldn't she? -- I won't. And I don't. Because I love July. And June. And August. And although this summer frames the single biggest loss in my life so far, well, things were absolutely lovely until July 23. And we had some lovely times after that, as well.
So I say goodbye to this summer . . .