Summertime Swan Song
It had to be one of the most difficult summers of my young life. There we were, just having finished the 7th grade and we knew that in just a short amount of time, she’d be moving elsewhere. After what we believed to be an eternity of learning and growing as a couple, we would be torn asunder due to circumstances beyond our control. It was not the way we wanted to start our summer.
She was going to be moving during the last month of summer, before school resumed in the fall. Knowing that, we spent as much as we could with each other. It was a fight that we knew we couldn’t win, but we tried our best, seeing if our efforts would somehow extend the time we had with each other. It was a joyous time, but deep in our hearts we knew that day would eventually come.
The warm days wrapped us in a comforting blanket of togetherness, as we watched the clouds float lazily by. During that time, we watched movies, hung out at the park and spent time together only the way couples could. She often came to my waterpolo games to watch me play. It was a summer filled with tender moments, as well as many moments of levity.
I remember teaching her how to swim and windsurf, since she didn’t know how to do either. My patience and understanding was sorely tested while I taught her to swim, but it was well worth the trouble. It would be something that she would always carry with her; a little something that would remind her of me. Plus, she wouldn’t drown if she ever ended up falling into a deep body of water. It took a month of half-drowning, water-swallowing and spluttering expressions before she could swim. It was probably the most memorable time I had with her that summer.
On her last day, we had dinner and went back to the house to rest up and pack the very last of their things. She and I spent most of the night talking and laughing, keeping the sadness at bay. As the clock struck two, I figured that it was time to go. I got up and gathered my things, when I felt her hand on my arm.
“Please. Please, don’t go…”
