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Dear Summer.
Kim

This was written a while back, but the feeling hasn't changed. :)

     dear summer,

    the other night, you appeared on the horizon, nearly within my grasp, and filtered in through the cracks in the trees. you hovered above hills smothered in the white of snow, ready to melt away winter's darkness.
    i don't think i ever allowed myself to be ungrateful, thankfully, for the rain that pattered on the porch's roof and the feeling of waking up after what felt like a moment's sleep to catch the first sunrise of my life. months of weariness and tears from stress are worth stepping out of the dirty maroon van and squinting into the glare of the August sun at the lake glittering in the light.
   sometimes i wonder how you allowed my fingers to smooth your rough texture from time to time, spread the warmth across my hand. even when rain drowned everything in the greyness, i could smile at the dull colour and breathe in the scent of pine.
    i'll admit that occasionally, i still wake up from time to time in tears, wanting so badly to believe that it is two in the afternoon and instead of having to go face a variety of people with mixed feelings, i'd just have to reach out for my phone on my desk beside me and text Sam to tell her i'm awake. regardless whether i had seen her the previous day, or everyday for the past week, walking along the familiar sidewalk that ran parallel to the burgundy fence to get to her house had a ritualistic comfort.
    i just wish i could capture time and return to waking up to the sight of Jerri sitting by the window excitedly, exclaiming that today was the perfect day to walk to the centre. or finding humour with Emily in the most important moments of our lives, just to hide the way we blushed with pleasure at the thought that of all people, of all people...
     i apologize because i did not write this letter to dwell. i just wanted to let you know that i was there when you were staying up past your bedtime, the same way my sleeping habits found me up until four in the morning on summer nights. i could see that despite the way the reds and oranges you emitted were folding across the sky, ready to smolder you into your nightly sleep, you were peeking out from underneath your covers; struggling to stay awake, even if it was just for an extra few seconds...
                         thank you.

           love,
       Kimberly.


Tags: nostalgia


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