Dear Summer,

This is my farewell letter. These past few months have been magical. In fact, they were some of the best I’ve ever had. But classes are starting today, and unfortunately, it is time for us to go our separate ways.
I did not want for this to happen. I would have stayed contently among your warm sun and lengthy days for decades, but the real world is demanding, and I had no choice. I had to leave you.

I will miss you terribly. I am already nostalgic for the lazy afternoons I spent sitting in your grassy parks with a favorite book in hand, shaded by your green leaves and accompanied by countless other carefree summer compatriots.

I will miss your unhurried walks along the quiet river and through bustling city streets. I will miss your ducks and your kayaks. I will miss the swing of your summer shopping bags and the sight of your sidewalk book sales.

I will miss your friendly barbeques and your Fourth of July fireworks. I will miss your outdoor concerts and your late nights spent sitting on the steps of my apartment building.

I will miss walking through the aisles of Trader Joe’s in search of groceries and your ensuing cooking experiments. I will even miss the requisite walk back to my apartment with shopping bags in hand and the less successful culinary adventures.

I will miss my dilapidated yet cherished apartment and have not quite yet settled into my well-maintained dorm room. I might even miss the chipping paint, although I think I have happily abandoned the leaking ceiling.

I will miss your men who hand out newspapers by the metro stop in the mornings and your calypso drums present in the afternoons. I think I may even miss your crowded metro and its rushed, self-absorbed commuters.

No longer will I leave work freed of responsibility until the next morning. Instead of guilt-free, uncorrupted leisure time, I am returning to the world where there is always an assignment waiting, always work left undone and waiting.

There will be no more afternoon happy hours or impromptu weekday museum trips. Instead, my weeknights will fill up with meetings and schoolwork, and my excursions into the city will require more forethought.

Late nights in the library will soon replace my early morning commute. Trips to the DUC will soon supplant my lunch hours in Chinatown.

Some say that all good things must come to an end and that summer romances are rarely more than temporary flings. I knew that this was coming, summer. I knew that this would have to end.

Still, I will miss your flip-flops and your boat rides. I will miss your sunsets and your starry nights.

Until next year,

Eve