I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but chances are you missed it.
Everybody says it was easy to miss because it was faster than usual, but nobody can prove a thing like that. It’s just talk.
That said, I do believe it was faster than the last one.
The thing about speed is, once you hit a certain momentum, there’s no slowing down.
So that’s it. Another one gone. Blink twice and it’s over.
This one was so short I think everybody will be talking about it years from now. You know, the sort of, “Where were you when you heard the news?”
I was at the mall. The husband had dropped me off and was waiting in the car while I ran in to make a return. I entered the double-wide sliding doors and saw the big red letters on a store window — END OF SUMMER SALE.
I thought it was a sick joke. But then there was another — END OF SUMMER CLEARANCE. It was a one-two punch. And then there was a third — END OF SUMMER / EVERYTHING 20 percent OFF.
Summer was over. It was June 27.
You know what June 27, is right? It’s one day shy of being a week after the first day of summer. It’s the sixth-to-the-next-longest day of the year — but summer was over.
When I got back in the car, I told the husband summer was over.
“What?” he said.
“Turn down the air conditioner so you can hear me. Summer is over.”
“Might as well be,” he said with a sigh of despondency. He’d be OK with summer being over since his ball team is doing rotten this year. Again.
I don’t know how summer can be over. I’ve only had one cherry tomato off the vine. Cucumbers aren’t ready to pick and I haven’t seen a single roadside stand selling field-fresh sweet corn.
The basil is going strong, phlox are blooming and the hillsides are bursting with black-eyed Susans.
The thermometer says 90. Mosquito season is just getting into full swing. We’ve been eating watermelon nearly every day of the week. Sometimes for breakfast.
My biggest clothing decision each day is whether to go with the khaki capris or the white capris. My shoe choice is between flip flops and sandals.
There are a half dozen Popsicle sticks on the back patio and two unopened boxes in the freezer.
They can say summer is over, but I’m not going along peacefully on this one. They can have my sunscreen when they can pry it from my cold, frozen hands, which won’t be until late December, also known as winter.
Then again, maybe summer is over. The husband was channel surfing and said, “Look at this on the Hallmark Channel — Christmas movies all week long.”
Time flies when you’re having fun.
Lori Borgman is a columnist, author and speaker. Reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org.