When summer is coming you start to see ads for tanning booths and how to lose weight and get in shape so you’ll look good in a bathing suit. By summer you need to be beautiful.
No wonder I don’t like summer.
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In the States it begins with remembering and death: Memorial Day. We’re supposed to remember our soldiers who died in wars we sent them to kill in. I sort of think of this, but not very much. I never lost anyone in a war and don’t want the start of summer to bum me out. What I want is a day off work. I want someone to fix me barbecue and to eat homemade deviled eggs and pie. I want to drink gin and tonics and fall asleep in the sun and not wake up.
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One summer I went to a cabin near the coast. I teach from the autumn to spring and I sometimes pretend that when summer comes, I’ll get back to my own work and write. Sometimes I do, but it seems to get harder and harder. The summers get shorter and hotter and more and more I want to nap. My brain feels like soup…