That Final Day of Summer

That Final Day of Summer


It had begun innocently enough. A conversation in a small coffee shop, tucked into one of the last physical libraries still in the city. A “I haven’t seen you since school ended!” and even a few “I missed you”s.

She was as radiant as ever, entirely at home in such an ill lit place, the stench of fire, the must of pages flipped, and the grinding of coffee beans. She was as close to a living goddess as could be found, this side of the firmament.

Monika had said yes. The beach sounded wonderful. The cerulean sea and sky meeting at eternity yet only for a few days.  A few carefree days at the end of a long struggle. Education hadn’t been hard. It had been tedious, with the arbitrary rules, the classmates who wouldn’t return your calls a week past graduation, but at least the one you loved most of all would.

The date set. Logistics straightened out, avenues of attack, paths through the wilderness, artillery limbered, and rockets loaded.  The 4th of July had passed, but perhaps a gran finale would be best to say goodbye to summer, to high school, to the old life with the old guard, old aches easing into nothingness.

In the moment, of course, no one thinks in such a way.

“So, one final chance at the creeks we never waded through as children? One last day in the sun?”

“Just so long as you bring the sunscreen, and I am with you.”

The sun was never harsh here. Home it always was. The sun was what you chalked up as the reason you never played with the other kids. Truly, you just didn’t wish to meet the others, your differences seemed insurmountable. Even now, or perhaps because of this, you felt you never fit in with anyone but her, the one who understood. Loneliness sounds easy to fix, but even in a sea of people, you can find yourself a castaway. You only felt safe when facing the storms. Perhaps there was a dare devil in you after all, especially to have brought her here when all others had failed.

Cold watermelon, cool waters, hot sands, hot sun, white surf, white clouds, and green eyes. The most captivating scene of all was always her. She knew it too and enjoyed you for watching. She even watched you as well, though you could never believe her when she said that she did. For how could you be noticed by anyone? Yet, she did, and you felt much better than you had in seemingly years.
To swim in the sea, returning to the primordial soup that it had all begun in, was of course a swell time, floating in the foam, sand castles torn apart by time and tide, only to be rebuilt so long as man remained. Monika had schooled you at surfing, even the one-time champ of Bondi Beach was no match to the prowess of a natural. (No one else was surfing that day).

Long evening shadows lengthened, the sun-soaked bodies still warm, and the swaying of the sea still felt on the sand. In the setting sun, seafood was king. Even Monika had enjoyed the clam bake, the coconut shrimp, and the King crab. “I’m only a vegetarian when I’m not eating your meals. Besides, it’s the farming economy I have an issue with, not the sea.”

“I’m glad you liked it. I wish you’d let me cook for you for the rest of our lives, if you’d be mine, that is.”

A silent wind blows, before a soft “Yes.”

There are no words to describe what that monosyllabic did to you. It had changed your lives, and that was enough.

With full bellies, the main event of the night would begin in earnest. The fireworks had been readied, zoomers, boomers, doomers and bloomers. Roman candles, Bob-ombs, whizzers, and even a Typhoon. Personally, you preferred the SU-37 Terminator, but a Typhoon is fine, too. One by one, off they roared, spiraling, spewing, and finally sputtering flame before they exploded, consumed, lighting the love of your life and you.  Gold and crimson specks briefly flittered in her emerald eyes, and gleaming gems and an alabaster smile filled your soul with love for her.

Whizzzzzz…. CRACK! Another boom. Blasting away at the heavens in an abortive attempt to fight the one who made that night sky.  The only words that could be heard between the sizzling of the fuse and the great, calamitous kabooms were small mentions of how much one loved the other, how they had been scared that the other would reject them.

Boom. “I love you.” Crack. “…will be our plans in the future?” Pop Pop Pop Pop Pop. “Just so long as I am with you.” The realization that the stars could and had been brought by chance or will to align. A future could still be grasped and grown like a well-maintained garden of hope.  With a kiss, a connection. With as many as that were had, a life together was promised to be had in the times of calm and storm, of the terrible heat of summer and frost of winter, such as they are.

A slow drive back. Full of conversations that had never found a home at school. Books that had been read, films seen, current events promised to meet at. Dorms selected, classes that coincided with one another. On this final day of summer, life had finally found a way. Instead of being dragged backwards, finally the path lead forwards. The obstacle was always the way, but this road less traveled seemed lined with flowers, shady trees, and was made just for two star crossed lovers such as yourselves.

On that final day of summer, that first step would be taken.