There's something new in the air, and boy is it contagious.
Sun dances on my skin and pinches with intensity that I simply love. It feels like I'm reborn again, peeling off layer after layer till I'm bare to the bright golden disk in the sky. It's as if we've just woken up from a deep hibernation in a dark, dank cave with hairier legs than Momma bear. Where are the waxing strips! I feel guilty though if I'm not spending every waking moment outside in the glorious sunshine. It almost feels like I owe a certain tithe to the sun god, the bringer of tropical fruits, tans and gnarly surf.
The honeysuckle is out in full force on my hedge and it fills the air with its scent that is intoxicating, positively sinful.
And as we enter this brilliant younger sibling of the seasons, I have this deep seeded thought that this summer will be the best yet. Maybe that extends from it being the last that I will spend with my friends that I dearly love.
The next time we'll probably see each other is at our ten-year reunion, which is simply a platform to compare our success and the size of our… paycheques.
In the words of The Mountain Goats, “I'm gonna make it through this year.”
