‘I’m too busy to enjoy summer’, she said. Wait, too busy for summer?
I remember when summer meant freedom. School was out; no more homework or exams. No more scolds from unfair and misunderstanding teachers. It was a time to play video games and spend the days outdoors. I’d cycle to swimming practice, after which mom would have a well-deserved rambunctious dinner all ready to be devoured.
What a life! Though it’s been different of late.
I’ve almost stopped being a kid by now. I think. I don’t expect to ever again have three months off to do whatever I feel like doing. Sure, I can lay in the grass for an hour or two, but that just means I’ll be working on my thesis later, during dusk.
Am I too busy to enjoy summer?
But what about the chirping magpies? I much enjoy their charming song. The sweaty heat of day that draws me to a shady tree, where I often read and write. The vibrant forest where I sometimes walk during the entire day during the weekends. Or the river Rhine, with its more than suitable quasi-beach and the never-ending song of its flimsy waters.
There’s loads of other things to do. I once heard you can balance an egg during the equinox. Most likely an utter myth, of course, but that doesn’t keep me from trying.
It seems to be so scarce, time. But it is summer’s unpredictable pleasures that make up its wonders. No simple moment is short enough, nor any experience pointless. And whatever winds of winter may come, summer’s fleeting beauty will be held in every heart willing to stop, and look around.
Are you too busy to enjoy summer?
Are you too busy to enjoy life?