I wasn’t made for summer.
I just am not a summer person. I never have been. I have red hair and the skin that goes with it and I can promise you that said skin is NOT prepared for the sun!
All through my teen years, my girlfriends had the skin that would turn a beautiful toasty color while I turned into a brittle red that hurt to look at. Once, on a Florida beach trip, I fell asleep by a pool with the chaise lounges that had patterns on them. The shadow of that chair fell across my body and that pattern was literally seared into my skin.
I’m not made for summer.
The annual family Myrtle Beach vacations of my childhood invariably consisted of one whole glorious day on the beach and the remainder of our stay was spent with me covered in Noxzema, lying in front of the air conditioner on my stomach because my back and arms were blistered! And I can still see my mother sitting on the tiny porch in front of our rental looking sadly at the beach and whispering with Daddy, probably about taking turns sitting with me. I’m pretty positive those vacations had a great deal to do with me being an only child.
I’m not made for summer.
But that first beach day was always magical! Even as I write this, I can feel the ocean breeze as it pelts my face with tiny bits of sand that will undoubtedly stick because I’m covered in suntan lotion. Just coming over the dunes and seeing the ocean for the first time in a year was an almost holy experience! That salt air mingled with the smell of Coppertone and pierced with shouts of joy from people diving into the surf… and the surge of delight that shot through me as I tossed my towel down and ran to the water myself was hard to beat!
But that was then and this is now.
It was the time before Jaws, and during Flipper so there was no fear of being eaten alive by vicious sea creatures. I don’t even remember any warnings back then about killer rip tides or stinging jellyfish. We were only told to watch out for sharp shells that could cut our feet. If that ever happened to you, you know the anguish of a fresh cut on your feet as you hobbled to shore in salt water and while it beats being a munchie for killer sharks, it’s still no picnic!
I wouldn’t dare go into the ocean today.
Then there were also the lake days. I had relatives who lived on Lake Murray and that, too, was sheer bliss! The picnics and the comradery of playing with my cousins were the embodiment of the lazy days of summer. Back then, I’d think nothing of running down and jumping off the docks into 30-feet of water! My parents had made sure I had swimming lessons so I was pretty confident in my aquatic abilities. I even learned to ski and before that, tubing on the lake was fabulous fun.
And, of course, back then there were no rumors of alligators/crocodiles that were dumped when they got too big to handle as pets and the water was pure with no signs of god-awful amoebas or infectious diseases.
The lake is deep and it feels risky to me today.
I can remember these days fondly but I do NOT remember triple digit heat. I do NOT remember people on television giving us warnings about going outside. I just don’t remember these summers with temperatures that feel like the whole state resides right outside the gates of hell!
These days, the beach is for watching the sunrises and early morning or just before dusk walks. I remember floating out past the breaking waves with my friends without a worry in the world but these days, I’m not going more than ankle deep into the surf. And the lake water is fine from a boat or a jet ski but to submerge myself in it is unthinkable. If I’m going to swim these days, it’s going to be in a pool where I can see the bottom…and if there are small children who may not have been taught to get out of the water to go to the bathroom…even that isn’t an option.
I think I’ve become a summer weenie. And that’s just fine with me. I love the promise of spring with all its renewal and budding plants and flowers. I’ll take those crisp autumn days with all the leaves turning magnificent colors when you can smell your neighbor’s fireplaces in the air. Give me temps that demand sweaters and boots as you sit around a fire sipping spiked cider planning your holiday shopping. I’ll take a snowy day over these steamy summer ones without question.
Yes…I’m definitely not made for summer…and I’m okay with that. October can’t get here soon enough!
I’m just saying…
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