The End of Summer Bucket List

11:58 AM

Dear September,

So...here you are again. You've tricked me, as you always do. You come bearing gifts -- a big fat, beautifully wrapped box which I delightedly open and even more delightedly welcome. Labor Day! It's just what I always wanted! Thank you, September!

Your gift makes me cheerful. Makes me want to invite you inside. "Have a cup of tea, why don't you?" I gurgle gleefully. And perhaps because I'm one heck of a hostess, or perhaps because you really enjoy my house and my coffee, you agree. Of course you have time to come in for tea.

But as I'm reaching for the delicate china salvaged my my tea party days with the delightful Raggedy Ann and an assortment of Barbies who were apparently too insignificant to remember specific names, suddenly I shudder. My hand snaps back to my side, without the chipped china cups. Shit. Is that really September, waiting right out there, for me?  What am I going to tell Summer, who I begged, for months,  to come for a visit? Summer, who I bought a plane ticket to visit, when she was vacationing in the Southern United States, back in March. Summer, who I missed so much.

I know that September is sitting at my kitchen table and I've already invited September in, so I have to serve September some tea. I'll shuffle out, carrying a tray of cookies and cinnamon spice tea bags and boiled water in my special porcelain kettle, but I'll do it miserably. September is a jealous friend, not so jealous as October or November, who require total loyalty, but jealous nonetheless. September will see the uncertainty in my eyes right away and know that I'm not quite ready to make our relationship exclusive. September will try to hold its ground. "It's me or Summer," it'll say with fierceness. I'll cower a bit, but still, I won't be able to give September an answer and so, finally, we'll negotiate a bit.

"Okay, I won't throw Summer out entirely," September says. "I'll make room for Summer, but you should know that we're sharing. I get my time, too."

Happily, I grin and I nod my head and I clap my hands.
September grimaces at my obvious glee and so, September shakes its head and gives me a stern look. "Don't expect October and November to be so friendly. And definitely not December. Summer's gotta go. You better enjoy it while it lasts."

"Oh, I will," I promise dutifully. And then, "say September, have you ever considered being friends with Summer? You've sure got a lot in common."

****

Behold, the end of summer bucket list. My promise to September fulfilled. I'll make the best of this month and savor the final drops of summer, while simultaneously enjoying the pleasant, caramel apple memory inducing touches of fall.


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