This is the part of the summer—the period after my birthday and through mid-September—that I wish I could lock into a safe deposit box for the next seven months. Open in Emergency. It’s because at this stage in the summer, I am well acquainted with being a bit too hot, and I start to think wistfully about the fall months. Once Halloween hits, it’s not long after that winter is here and we’re suddenly staring at the 40-day month of February. This is around the time that I want to experience all of the elements of late summer.
While driving south down the west coast of Italy yesterday, the sun burned low and circus peanut orange in the sky. The massive cruise ships anchored off of Civitavecchia almost looked like something you’d see in a colored pencil drawing, colors all accentuated with strong black lines. For me, the resulting effect was photoluminescent glow on my car that I admired from my sideview mirror. And, almost immediately as the sun set, a massive, powder orange full moon rose up humongous and smiling above the tree line outside of Rome. These scenes were decidedly Italian, but at the same time they reminded me that we were in August.
As an adult, I am painfully aware of all the confounding events that have gone on in the world at this end of August. And while I find no shortage of simple things giving me cheerful pause right now, these realities of humanity make it hard for me to want to write anything at all. I am not qualified to pontificate about what is going on in Afghanistan; I am only qualified as a thinking and feeling person to acknowledge that I’m having a hell of a time getting my head around what it all has meant and means right now. And then there’s our persistent global pandemic. I lost an extended family member this month to the virus. It had me sending my mother, a person who refuses to get vaccinated, a text telling her that I don’t want her to die from COVID. As anticipated, I got no response. This comprises late summer at the start of my 44th year.
With all these distasteful realities of life in mind, it feels inappropriate to write about anything other than the colors, sounds and smells of August as I recognize them. The world is a mess, but the world also has its more delicate points.
I am eternally grateful for everything that is granted to me, for as long as it lasts. I was able to go home to Cape Cod, the very place that first let me in to the secret that August is magic. And I’m willing to bet that you have some places in your mind that support this statement. Selfishly, by going back home, I got to see most of my family and do almost all of the things that I missed. And like the rest of us, I did it despite the risks. The COVID-19, the various land sharks, the crowded places where everyone of course has the same idea as me. Because the seaside in August is amazing. For whatever month we’ve reached in this pandemic (I don’t even want to count), you have to make some hard decisions and deliberately choose to live some of the things that you haven’t been living.
I’m not sure if there is anything I really wanted to write about today. More often then not, I’ve thought about just taking a big long maybe lifetime break and not writing anything at all. The older I get (and the ticker just passed another year), the more wore down I get. The more I just want to sit on a terrace and watch the moon rise with nothing else in my brain. The news is still there, and all of the world’s events are just a phone’s reach away. I once read somewhere that Australia has the highest count of deadly animals, but I now tend to think that this is a fairly inconsequential measuring stick. Like a crappy 8-bit video game, there’s plenty enough everywhere that is crouched and even in view, just seconds away from trying to ruin your day. The mosquitoes at dusk, or the sharks that you can’t see off of the National Seashore, threatening to ruin your vacation. Or maybe your entire game will just freeze right when you’ve almost reached safety. I’m thinking again about that airport. It’s hard not to—because this is how we approach life as an adult. Even if it’s August.
Last night as the moon reached high and grew smaller overhead, the surroundings grew pleasantly quiet. As the Italians near their bitter end of Ferragosto vacation, you can start to see signs of change. Mid-September is just around the corner, and the events of the planet will continue to shift one way or another. As I sat in my chair in silence, I was handed a stick of chocolate dipped vanilla ice cream. It made me think of the last ice cream I had before I left Cape Cod. An impromptu stop at Dairy Queen where I ordered a Dilly Bar. There was nothing mind-blowing about either event, but all the same, each one was special. During times like right now, they seem to be the elements that are easiest to appreciate. These kinds of memories, from the last few days, are the ones I will rely on to help carry me through the coming months.