Summer in my rearview mirror

As I say goodbye to summer,

I walk away.

Backwards.

I take in every ray of sunlight, carefully memorizing the shimmers where it sparkles down on the ocean.

My backwards walk is slow and deliberate…

I am tiptoeing out of this magical place,

Irish goodbye-ing the closing credits of this chapter of my life.

I’m not ready to look away just yet,

but I know it’s time to go.

Off I back-pedal,

immortalizing this crossover of nostalgia

and having finally retired my rose-tinted sunglasses.

Seeing this place that raised me so clearly,

I thank it.

I let my fingers linger on the doorknob of our robin-eggshell blue door one last time until I return.

I capture some sunlight in my handbag to take home with me.

Grasping onto one last trace of this glorious, salty air,

I take it all in.

Discomfort. Longing. Gratitude. Summer blues. Sunlight-induced tiredness. Peace. Beauty.

As I go,

I envision myself at present.

I uphold her, thanking her.

I wonder what she’ll think of the next version of me, the one that will enter that door next summer.

This summer, I asked myself,

“do we ever really go home again?”

It’s never the same, but home we go.

We’re never the same, but to home we return.

I walk backwards,

witnessing the beautiful shaker-shingled-structure that holds space for me and my loved ones to gather,

year after year.

It never asks us why we’ve changed,

or asks us to be who we once were.

It opens its arms wide and welcomes us in,

embracing our evolution,

summer and summer again.

I thank it.

What it represents.

I finally turn to face forwards once I bump into my car.

I say, “so long,” because goodbye’s are too difficult to endure.

I thank this summer for being all I didn’t know I needed and more.

I take the care ride to appreciate small moments of my becoming,

the ones I witness alone.

I smile, and with one eye glance into the rearview mirror,

taking a mental picture of everything as it is now.

Playlist, “Summer in My Rearview Mirror”

I found this poem I wrote in August when I was cleaning out my room the other day. February felt like a heavy month, as did last August. This piece signified me feeling like I was coming out of a funk, much like how I felt now on this crisp March day: nostalgic & present & wistful & grateful all at the same time.