I was twelve years old the first time the heat of the summer months felt a bit too hot on my skin. But I was never a summer child, never preffered the salty sea and the assaulting humidity that apparently had something against curly hair. I loved sunlight, though, playing outside and getting dirty with the neighbouring kids, and playing valleyball 'till our muscles sent up flairs of warning up our arms. And I loved ice cream, loved walking late at night by the chizzled shores of the dancing sea, loved my dad for bying us all the biggest scones we've ever seen, and we ate them in record time. We would have asked for more, but it was late, and I loved waking up early and going on bike rides and quickly jumping into the sea. Not because I wanted to get up at 6AM on a summer day. It seemed to me that it was the only time the water was cold enough to cool me down.
What I loved most were the stormy days that welcomed us one year, and while I rejoiced, my mom was shaking her head.
"A wind storm in the middle of July", she said,"a warning sign, if I've ever seen one."
But I loved, loved, loved the fall mornings that crept up and kicked the summer away, but kept the warm sunshine for a few more weeks.
The summers were good for one thing only – all the pretty sweaters were on sale. I'd always buy a few and choose one, that special one that was the softest, or had the little embroidering detail done just right, to wear the first day of school. It won't be a cold day, the first week of September, but school starts in the fall and in the fall you wear long sleeves and pretty sweaters and carry books around the halls like you've transfered to Hogwarts. And you walk with your best friends, two boys you've grown up with, competing who will step on the most crunchy looking leaf on the way from school. But this year the leaves seemed to be summer green one day and the charcoal black the next, like you blinked and missed all the pretty colours in between. Now you have to wait 'till next year for the yellow and the orange and the red to decorate the streets of your little town.
It's okay, though, because after the leaves comes the rain, and one of us will most certainly forget their umbrella, either at home or in the classroom, and everybody will have to squeeze under a little shield. And of course, I was always the shortest, and the boy by my side who used to be just as tall as me would complain how I'm not thinking about his newfound hight, and he'd snatch the umbrella from my hands and raise it up, up, up, so we'd both return home dry. Of course, if he was feeling particularly mischievous, he'd run up in front of me, and laugh as I trudded through the puddles. He'd slow down after a minute or two of my voice shouting after him, and come back to offer me his chivalrous protection.
The rain came late that year, and we were too busy planning our snowed in New Year to enjoy it. There was a steep hill a few minutes from our houses, that no doubt worried about all of us being no shows for the annual party. Then again, the snow was a no show as well.
It rained until the sun announced the sudden spring. We let the sleighs rest for that one winter.
The spring seemed to be a bit moody that year, but we fancied ourselves teenagers so we understood. Sometimes you go through phases where it's all sunny and warm and you're burning up inside because your best friend bought you a parfume for Valentines day and a rose on the 8th of March (for putting up with him and giving him your notebooks when he fails to listen in class). Other days you barely talk to one another, and you turn so cold you might as well get frostbite. There's just something different in the air this year, and by the next spring we'll be all figured out.
Next year, I sorted out the beginning of my love life but the spring still played hot and cold.
I still don't like the summer heats. We can't get out of the house much, except after the dark swallows the streets or just before the sun beats the moon in their daily fight for dominance. And I don't really love the fall anymore, it resembles the summers of the past, but we can't get dirty playing in the streets when we have a test tomorrow. Speaking of school, we can't really wear sweaters 'till mid november. It got too hot.
Snow visits us sometimes, rarely around Christmas or New Years, but it came by to say hello once in March and once in October. It didn't stay long enough for us to organize a sleighing competition on the now lonely hill.
Spring seems to have taken the brunt of it, though, as it welcomes all the weather whenever they see fit to drop by, sort of like those annoying cousins that pop up just when you've forgotten about them.
I told my mom yesterday all the changes I noticed over the years. Told them all about how sad they make me.
"The dinosaurs felt something similar after the asteroid, I'm sure," she said and turned around to iron a new T-shirt for my first day of school.