Story 506: The Fall From Summer

 (At an outdoor public pool, Friend 1 and Friend 2 lie stretched out on lounge chairs, reading waterproof books and watching families splash around in glee)

Friend 2: (To Friend 1) So, are you going to spend more than five minutes in the pool we paid $15 to spend all day in?

Friend 1: Are you?

Friend 2: …Maybe.

Friend 1: Same.  Besides, it’s more of the social experience than the actual getting-wet part.

Friend 2: You haven’t said one word to anyone here besides me; we could have done the same thing at a park for free.

Friend 1: But this way feels as if we’re at least making an effort.

Swimmer: (Climbs out of the pool and nods at Friend 1 and Friend 2 while passing their chairs) Good morning!

Friend 2: Good –

Friend 1: Don’t talk to me.

Friend 2: MORNING, hope you’re having a great day!

Swimmer: (Continues on uncertainly) Uh, thanks, you too.

Friend 2: (To Friend 1) You know, at this rate I’m shocked no one’s smacked you for your rudeness yet.

Friend 1: So am I.  (They both return to reading.  After several moments, a gentle breeze wafts by; Friend 1 suddenly sits up, ripping off sunglasses and hissing through clenched teeth) Did you feel that?!

Friend 2: (Tiredly, without looking up from the book) What, did you get splashed by a stray drop of water from an inconsiderate child in the giant pool we’re sitting in front of?

Friend 1: No!  Well yes, but I’ve risen above it – no, I was referring to that, that… (Points up to the sky) ill-omened wind.

Friend 2: I… felt a slight breeze for less than a second, if that’s what you meant.

Friend 1: Oh, that was no breeze: that was The Herald.  The Harbinger.  The Portent of Things to Come.

Friend 2 I didn’t hear there’s supposed to be rain today.

Friend 1: I’m talking about fall!  It’s here already, can’t you feel it?!  (The breeze wafts once more) There it is again!

Friend 2: It’ll be over 90° Fahrenheit for the next week.

Friend 1: Doesn’t matter!  We’re in September: the planet tilting away from the Sun in this hemisphere has reached the tipping point, the coolness of dread has begun, there’s no going back, the magic is over!

Friend 2: Calm down.

Friend 1: How can I when summer has come to a crashing end and all joy has ceased to be?!  (Notices that everyone in the pool had stopped splashing and now are staring at both of them)  I’m rehearsing lines for a play.  (They shrug and return to splashing)

Friend 2: I would be embarrassed but you manage to draw all attention to yourself, so thanks for that at least.  (Returns to reading)

Friend 1: (Lies back on the lounge chair and shoves sunglasses back on) That’s right, continue on in your ignorant bliss; I’ll mourn the passing of fun times and the illusion of permanent youth in silence.

Friend 2: Please do.

(The next day, Friend 1 approaches the main counter in a café)

Barista: Hi!  How can I help you toady?

Friend 1: I would like a giant refresher, please.

Barista: (Winces slightly) Sorry, those aren’t on the menu anymore until next summer.

Friend 1: It still is summer for another three weeks; I have a cactus on my windowsill that melted just this morning.

Barista: Yeah, but you know how it is in the World of Retail: end of August means Back-to-School sales, Halloween decorations, and fake Christmas trees.  Would you like me to whip you up a pumpkin-spice something?

Friend 1: I will pass on that abomination and take a regular brownie instead.

Barista: I hear ya – between you and me, gingerbread is where it’s at.

Friend 1: Making it worse.

Barista: Gotcha.

(The next day, Friend 2 answers the phone while cooking in the kitchen) Hey, what’s up?

Friend 2: (Lying on the living room couch, wrapped up in blankets) I had to put on a sweater today.

Friend 2: What?  Oh, yeah, that cold front came in all of a sudden; I think it’s from that hurricane that hit south of us, those poor people –

Friend 1: It’s still summer!

Friend 2: Well, it was hot before when we technically were still in spring, so….

Friend 1: It’s hot all year long now, that’s not the point!  It’s not supposed to be cool breezes with falling leaves and homework yet; it’s supposed to still be super-hot all the time with 16 hours of daylight and beaches and boardwalks and roller coasters and ice creams and sleepovers and vacations and happiness forever and – and – and –

Friend 2: Are you crying?

Friend 1: Not yet.

Friend 2: (Resumes slicing an onion) Good.  Now, listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once: in about two months there’ll be peppermint hot chocolate.

Friend 1: I suppose I’ll have to settle for that as a trade-off.

Story 460: Extending Summer Forever

(On a park trail)

Friend 1: I’m mad.

Friend 2: Oh dear, what now?

Friend 1: Whaddya mean, “What now?”  I don’t complain a lot.

Friend 2: Ha!

Friend 1: OK, you got me – I complain all the time.

Friend 2: That you do.  So: what now?

Friend 1: (Sighs and gestures at the beauty of nature around them) This.  (Gestures at the two of them) I mean, look at us!

Friend 2: (Looks down without breaking stride) Has something happened that I’m not aware of?

Friend 1: Apparently – we’re wearing long sleeves and long pants, and I can’t stand it!

Friend 2: …Whyyyyy???

Friend 1: Because only two weeks ago we were wearing short sleeves and short pants!  And complaining how hot it was and that we were out here melting!

Friend 2: You certainly were.

Friend 1: That’s beside the point: just because our made-up calendar no longer states “August,” Nature gets it into her head to flip a switch and shut down production!

Friend 2: Other way around, you know: the calendar was made up to reflect the flipping switches of Nature.

Friend 1: Still – two weeks!  And we suddenly have to bundle up in our woolies and watch in helpless horror as all these glorious leaves wither up in beautiful colors and collectively leap to their demise!

Friend 2: (Looks around) Been taking longer and longer to do that each year lately, you notice that?

Friend 1: That’s an unrelated catastrophe; my rant involves the fact that it took forever for us to get to summer, and now, oh well, inexorable march of time marches on, here’s fall all y’all, like it or lump it, and I’m sick of lumping it!

Friend 2: You could always just like it.

Friend 1: Bah!

Friend 2: OK.

Friend 1: I still want to go to the beach!  I still want to have ice cream!  I still want the thrill of the boardwalk!

Friend 2: You still can, you know – those things are around all year long.

Friend 1: Yeah, but not with lifeguards!  Or college-kid-staffed parlors!  Or fireworks!  Or super-long-lines everywhere!

Friend 2: You’re right: some of those’re better this time of year.

Friend 1: You’re no help at all.  It’s also getting too night out too early now.

Friend 2: That, I agree with: I miss sunset being around 9:00 in the evening; now it’s just getting gloomy.

Friend 1: Exactly!  And soon enough, sunset’ll be at 4:30!

Friend 2: Well, by then it’ll be winter so we’ll be hibernating anyway.

Friend 1: Don’t talk to me about winter!  I’m not done slandering autumn yet!

Friend 2: Then by all means, continue.

Friend 1: I’ll switch gears instead: summer means the smell of chlorine, and swimming in tidal waves under teenage supervision, and outdoor concerts, and outdoor dining, and staying up all night long without thought of any consequences, and parties with your friends, and vacation all day long even if you’re not going anywhere, and carefree biking through the neighborhood streets, and living just for the endless day, and, and….

Friend 2: And feeling like a kid again?

Friend 1: (Slows to a stop; Friend 2 does likewise) Is that what this is?

Friend 2: A bit, at least for you – sounds like it’s the one season you can time travel back to when you were happier.

Friend 1: I’m happy now!

Friend 2: I said “happier.”

Friend 1: Oh.  I guess.  Point is, I want it to be summer forever.

Friend 2: (Starts walking again, followed by Friend 1) Well, it can’t: the planet has to continue tilting on its axis back and forth as it orbits the Sun; flora and fauna have evolved to match the seasonal changes throughout the world; and you’ll feel better about everything if you just accept that instead of mentally fighting it all the time.

Friend 1: I guess.  Unless….

Friend 2: What could possibly follow that?

Friend 1: Unless I figure out a way to stop the Earth tilting on its axis and straighten out its elliptical orbit so it’s optimal summer for our part of the world all year, every year, forever and ever, and –

Friend 2: And that’s a supervillain origin story if I ever heard one, you realize that?

Friend 1: Only if I fail!

Friend 2: You can be really bonkers sometimes, I have to say.

Friend 1: (Hastily brushes off several fallen leaves) Maybe, but it’s all in good fun.

Story 426: Never Happy With the Weather

 WINTER

(At a table in a café)

Friend 1: (Bundled up in a snowsuit, several wool hats, and mittens over gloves, and shivering while sipping a coffee; to Friend 2) Sorry, but this was a mistake: we should’ve just had coffee at our respective homes and met by video chat or something.

Friend 2: (Has coat, hat, and gloves draped over a chair and sips a hot cocoa relaxedly) You’re the one who wanted to “break hibernation” for something that wasn’t work.

Friend 1: (Ironically burns tongue) I know, and I thought I could handle the short bursts outdoors from apartment to car to here like usual, but outdoors decided to turn the air conditioning up to the max and not break single-digit Fahrenheit.  I look up at the distant sun in the crystal clear sky, and it laughs at me.

Friend 2: Heard we’re supposed to get a blizzard tomorrow.

Friend 1: I heard that as well, and chose to ignore that abomination.

Friend 2: Snow, ice, and high winds – might get two feet accumulation.

Friend 1: You sound suspiciously schadenfreudedly about that.

Friend 2: You make that up just now?

Friend 1: I took the German word for getting enjoyment out of other people’s misery, and English adverbed it.

Friend 2: Well, I’m not thrilled about the storm, I’m just finding the situation amusing because you were recently complaining that last month was too warm and the Earth needed winter.

Friend 1: The Earth does need it, but I don’t!  And I’ll be happy when we hit 90° again.  (Spills some of the coffee while shiveringly sipping it some more)

Friend 2: Uh-huh: give you six months.

 SUMMER

(At a public pool, swimmers are frolicking while Friend 1 and Friend 2 relax on nearby deck chairs)

Friend 1: (Wearing a cropped tank top and short shorts) This was a mistake –

Friend 2: (Wearing a loose cotton T-shirt, baggy shorts, and a wide-brimmed hat) Here we go.

Friend 1: We should’ve just stayed in our respective homes and met by video chat or something.

Friend 2: You said being by the water should cool us off; I thought you were going to suggest the beach with the off-shore breeze, but this is fine, too.

Friend 1: I thought having all this water around would cool us off by osmosis – clearly, I was mistaken!

Friend 2: (Gestures to the pool) Why don’t you just jump in, then?

Friend 1: What, you mean with all the people in there?

Friend 2: You’re ridiculous.

Friend 1: It doesn’t help that outdoors decided to turn the furnace up to the max and break triple-digits Fahrenheit.  I look up at the nearby sun in the hazy sky, and it melts my face off.

Friend 2: Just think, six months ago you would’ve wanted to be as overheated as you are now.

Friend 1: (Blinks at Friend 2) I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Friend 2: I’m sure you don’t.  Going in for a swim now.  (Removes layers for swimsuit underneath and jackknifes off the diving board into the pool)

Friend 1: (Drenched by the outer edges of the resulting splash) Oh, sweet tidal wave – how I’ve longed for ye.

 WINTER

(At a table in a café)

Friend 1: (Wearing two snowsuits, barely able to move; voice is muffled by multiple hats and scarves) This was a mis-

Friend 2: Don’t even start.

 SPRING

(In a public park, Friend 1 and Friend 2 are lounging in beach chairs under a shady tree)

Friend 1: (Breathes in contentedly as a warm breeze wafts through the air) Ahhhh….

Friend 2: Is this all right now, Goldilocks?

Friend 1: Hm?

Friend 2: Temp’s in the high 60s; mild to no wind; we don’t have to wear quilts or ice packs…?

Friend 1: Oh.  Yeah, you’re right: this is perfect.

Friend 2: Finally.

(They sit in silence for a few moments)

Friend 1: (Starts shifting around in the chair) Too perfect.

Friend 2: Theeeeere it is.

Story 369: Wishing the Seasons Away

 (Friends 1 and 2 sit at an outdoor table in 75°F weather; Friend 1 pushes food around the plate with a fork while sighing in various pitches)

Friend 2: (Continues to eat while watching this for a few minutes) You’d better eat that eventually or I’m gonna find someone who will.

Friend 1: Hm? Oh, sorry – just having a minor life-altering existential crisis; I’ll be fine in a minute.

Friend 2: I dread to ask: what now?

Friend 1: I don’t know, everything?

Friend 2: You’re going to have to narrow it down a little.

Friend 1: I guess it’s just, I’m not, you know – in the spirit of the season.

Friend 2: Join the club: everyone else isn’t this year either, or else they’re trying to fake it `til they make it.

Friend 1: Oh.  I didn’t mean that – I’ve felt this way for years.

Friend 2: Ah, so this is just normal for you, then.

Friend 1: Yeah.  You know we haven’t even had real snow for about half a decade?

Friend 2: Don’t get me started on the climate – I’ll never stop.

Friend 1: Yeah, you do go on.  But coming back to my thing, I’ve found in my so-called adult life that I’m rarely in the spirit of any season, ever.

Friend 2: How do you mean?

Friend 1: Well, right now I’m bummed out by night starting at 4:30 in the afternoon and the occasional bouts of polar winds, so I wish we could jump ahead to late spring and midsummer.

Friend 2: OK….

Friend 1: And then when it is late spring and midsummer, I don’t do anything anyway so then I wish it were sort-of-winter again so I can pretend to hibernate while I’m really just indulging my sedentary lifestyle.

Friend 2: …What?

Friend 1: I mean, isn’t it so cozy to curl up with a blanket and hot drink while a blizzard roars right outside your window?

Friend 2: I guess, if you have a good home, but didn’t you just say we don’t really get snow anymore?

Friend 1: My midsummer mind forgets that.

Friend 2: Oh good gourd.

Friend 1: And while we’re roasting in the hot sun and can’t even go out because it’s either oven temperatures or all the good beaches and amusement parks are filled with everyone else in the world, I just wish: wouldn’t it be nice to bundle up for a brisk walk in the snowy woods followed by a good curl-up with a blanket and hot drink while a blizzard roars outside your window?

Friend 2: My head’s spinning with your repetitiveness – why don’t you forget the blizzard and just go bundle up for a walk now?

Friend 1: (Holds up a leg) I’m wearing shorts!  In Northern-Hemisphere December!

Friend 2: All right, forget the bundle-up: how about stop allowing the seasons to dictate your mood and do whatever you want whenever you want?  As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, that is.

Friend 1: (Taps a fry to lip while pondering) You make an excellent point.

Friend 2: I know I do.  Now let’s pay the bill and get out of here – there’re about 50 people hovering over there waiting for a table.

Friend 1: They can have it when I’m good and finished.  For now, I’ll take your advice and live in the moment: tomorrow, I’ll finally fulfill my lifelong dream and go for advanced surfing lessons.

Friend 2: Oh-kay, didn’t realize you were going to go in that direction....

Friend 1: It’s like you said: I should stop letting the weather dictate my mood.  This balmy Winter Solstice, I will be riding the waves and grilling dinner out on the balcony and drinking lemonade and creeping around miniature golf courses, and no store decorations or holiday carolers or religious institutions or consumerist commercials or well-meaning charities will stop my new happiness!

Friend 2: That’s the spirit.