Summer's end
by Matt Worley

The sound of eight to ten gunshots tore me away from a dream. It was close to two-forty on a rainy Sunday morning. Soon after, someone slipped into a car, revved the engine and sped off into the night. I propped myself up on my bed, trying to decide if I should go outside to check out the situation. The memory was already confusing because it occurred during a dream--one I instantly forgot because of the immediacy of the gunshots outside my house. Somewhere near, something had happened. A quick walk around, peering out the front windows, and then to the bathroom for late night bladder relief. Soon I was back asleep, secure in the knowledge that it didn't really matter much to my life. If I hadn't have been so tired, I probably would have questioned my complacency. But the time for questioning is over, even as the time for answering has begun.

The weather began to chill a few weeks ago, but it was only fully noticed last week. The difference between days in the mid-90s and days in the mid-80s are discernible only because of the amount of time it takes to cool down after being out in the hot sun. Late summer days are easier to shrug off, but they seem as hot as the scorchers that deplete massive amounts of liquid from a body. But I'm not railing against the weather--against nature--I'm just making an observation. And so, the day after an early morning of gunshots begins with a soaking wet paper (attempted to read, but eventually put in a pulpy mess on the floor) and the need to put on more clothes. Suddenly it was a little chilly walking around in boxers and torn t-shirts.

And so the mind begins to focus again. The summer lends itself to laziness. The heat of the day seeps into a different kind of heat at night. Projects tend to get done from frustration rather than a want to work. But Autumn is here, which means the projects suddenly seem to be part of the life. Dragging asses is a symptom instead of a lifestyle. The time for outdoor barbecue has almost gone, the need for food is constant. Before I get drowned in this philosophical reverie, I must bring all of these contrasts to a logical head.

The difference between summer and the rest of the year is simple: the summer causes one to enjoy the simplicities of life. These accouterments, which are routine at best during the rest of the year, take on a life draining importance during the hot sun of the summer. It's okay to watch the sun go down. There is a necessity to rambling conversations that stretch for three hours as the Earth slowly loses its heat. Television is a silly friend that keeps repeating itself. A baseball game is an event, rather than a box score. If there is a reason for summer, it has to be reflection.

Suddenly, it seems, the time for remembering is over. The process known as acceptance (along with a healthy dose of denial) for the previous nine months is past. The growth charts have been printed up, and the verdict is in. So projects must begin again. New thoughts must be charted, and the season of shake and bake must end.

And waking up to a healthy round of gunshots suddenly brought the truth closer. Sure, it's just fine to live life one day at a time during the summer. Nothing of completely lasting importance ever happens (the rash of death near the end was really just cold reality rearing its ugly head out of season), so planning too much in advance is not a necessity. But it's Fall now. There are new stories to hear, new theories to discuss, and more work to store up and get us all through the winter.

It's these not-so-cold-to-appreciate early Autumn rain storms that always set my mind straight. The cleansing of ugly laziness and sloth to reveal the new person underneath. As I stand in the wetness, letting the water fall into all available nooks and crannys, remembering the fear and distrust that occurred during those first few seconds of raw sound this morning, I accept the change.

I can only think about things over and done for so long before gathering my forces together to make the new myths.

Matt Worley is an Aquarius, which might shed some light on his love for standing outside in the rain for long periods of time.

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