Summer Blues

The end of June has always, in some part of my mind, equated to the end of everything. It's probably because it was the end of the school year for thirteen years. By the end of June everything was over; Guiding, softball, and school. The Owlsnest closed. Most of my regular babysitting jobs were on hiatus for the summer. My Grandpa died in June. Fifteen years later and I still miss him horribly. The high point of my summer was always going down to visit him for a few weeks. He and I were the early risers. We would spend that quiet first part of the day together, opening the blinds, watering the plants, talking quietly over cereal, and just enjoying each other's company. It was a magical time, it was our time. Dawn feels empty without him, especially in the summer.

The end of June used to mark a few weeks of swimming lessons and playing outside with the neighbours, of being put to work on various projects in the house, but always there was vacation at Grandpa's to anticipate. After he died, there was no longer that mid-point to look forward to. It was just endless summer, helping Dad build a new fence, painting things, cleaning things, organizing things, scraping up enough money to go to a Guide camp now and then, swim lessons and bike rides, and the occasional vacation. But although school years have come and gone, and the weather has become hot and the days long, that carefree thing that was summer has not returned. I miss it.