I like summers. Mine are not what they used to be of course. Those days where summer meant two months of timelessness are gone forever ..nonetheless …. i still like summers.
Like birds coming to roost children living afar arrive at the doorstep of the familiar home they grew up in. To hand over their little ones into the welcoming warmth of a grandparents arms while they happily slide into respite from the daily grind. The gentle rhythm of the house changes in a heartbeat.
The soft, ordered rhythm goes for a dramatic change. Discipline takes a back-seat, habit is thrown to the winds. Disarray rules, toys lie strewn, clotheslines sag under increased load, the kitchen becomes redolent with once-familiar aromas as doting grandmothers rush to indulge the `deprived’ grand-kids.
In a house where silence ruled now evenings run into nights as friends and relatives drop by to catch up with the visitors from afar. Wisps of conversation, the abandoned laugh of a little child, sudden high-pitched admonishment, insistent stubborn wails …
I stand at my window, my eyes drawn every now and then to the house across, the little child running around, curious, exploring this new world, the grandfather who in the winter-gone-by found it difficult to walk tailing him indulgently.
Two months of timelessness, then the house will be silent again .. I like summer.