Bittersweet Late Summer
The sunsets are just a bit earlier. The mornings often carrying a touch of crisp. The lake noticeably quieter as the school year infringes on vacation times. Along the roadside colors are reaching out for an early foothold.
While far from over, I find memories of summer – this and others past – creeping into my thoughts more often. Coming on the heels of these tiny changes is knowing this was perhaps MK’s favorite time of year. She loved sweater weather on the beach, times at the lake stolen from the increasingly hectic pace of work and school schedules, and the extra spring in the step of her Labradors as they appreciated the slight chill. This time of year she always had feelings of sanctuary at the lake, saying she’d left her worries and concerns behind the bolted door of home.
Last night we had a bonfire and spent time on the beach stargazing while watching for the aurora. As the firelight danced over the sand and the embers snapped into the sky I missed her more than usual. She’d have snuggled with Napa, who I do believe she’d have loved, even while being upset with me over my laxness with her. She’d have had a drink in hand. Perhaps steaming hot coffee, but just as likely a Solo cup full of her favorite Merlot, bottle close by cradled in the sand. Toes, too, dug down into the sand for warmth, a gorgeous calm upon her face, but with night’s quiet broken with her sweet voice or laughter. She never wanted those nights to end. However with the fire’s warmth ebbing, we’d have walked hand-in-hand through the darkness up to Pallino.
Last night, though, it was just Napa and me making that short walk. A kindred spirt to MK, Napa was reluctant to leave the beach, relishing the unique place of a slice of her world in darkness.
Had it been one of those summers of old, MK would’ve insisted on stripping our smoky clothes into a heap at the door. Never a complaint from me as I always found her extra beautiful when moonlit. On the bed would be an extra blanket now – and she’d insist on getting in first, not wanting me to steal the coolness of the sheets and only after inviting me in to help warm her up.
We’d wake to the muted morning sun filtering through the trees, which nestle the cabin. I’d be on coffee duty while she’d decide if we’d have it in bed, on the deck, or down on the dock. No matter her decision, it was always the day’s best cup.
I feel close to MK in many places in my life, but it’s intense here. No surprise I suppose. You see, she wasn’t ever really sick here. It was omnipresent in health, forced on hiatus during her war, then, thanks to her love of this place, reappearing.
Perhaps Billy Joel said it best in ‘Lullabye’: “I promised I would never leave you. Then you should always know, wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away.”
Especially here….
