Ah, the “official” end of the summer, Labor Day, is now upon us. It’s like the magical, non existing switch that turns off the carelessness and reverie of summer. It seems that after Labor Day, we all have to go “back to” something, whether it be school (hell), or work, or your “inland” hometown, or not wearing white pants anymore. The shore towns fall silent, and the roads once again fill with giant yellow buses. Perhaps it’s a time to go back to being serious, studious and altogether not fun. It’s the turning point of freedom, in a way. After Labor Day, lots of things that are “required” start popping up, like my personal favorite (please read that line with the upmost sarcasm), holidays (the blog will be on fire with rants during that time, I promise you). Gone are the freedom clothes (flowy dresses or shorts, anyone?) and freedom shoes (oh, how I will miss you, flip flops), and replaced by things that take effort, like zip up boots and sweaters with tight, breath constricting turtle necks (as unflattering as the name, people). I am actually not a big fan of summer (the heat, my God, the heat!), but I am a fan of what it represents—freedom and reckless abandon. In the summer, people don’t act with trepidation. They seek out adventure, they fall in love with the “wrong” (but very sexy) person, they daydream, they waste entire days at the beach, doing nothing but sleeping, reading and swimming. They reminisce while eating ice cream. They work less, and vacation more. They cook on fire and, in a sense, revert back to primal, instinctive ways. No wonder romances come alive in the summer; we are more natural, more primordial, closer to who our true selves want us to be, but who society tells us to shut off during the rest of the year.
My favorite days are when the summer slowly fades away into the cooler, crisper, more rational days of fall. The oppressive heat leaves and my mind clears, leaving me with the essence of summer lingering in the back of my thoughts, waiting there, for whenever I want to go “back to” a little reckless abandon.