the ghost of summers past


I don’t love summer anymore.

Summer brings out the inner city kids, and their silliness. Drunken voices on their way home from the pub, or just hanging out in the street, make my veins flow with fear.

I hear my son in every group. The difficult years rush back at me. The time before the silence.

When I was younger I lay in the sun and swam for days. Jasmine, fresh cut grass, suntan lotion – smells of summer smiles. By day the box of mangoes on the kitchen table never seemed to empty, and father at the bbq by the pool in the evening.

Summer’s not my season anymore. I keep my balcony doors closed, and increase the volume until the tv’s rhubarb is louder than…




12 thoughts on “the ghost of summers past

  1. I think with many different kinds of loss it takes years to have a season’s good memories start asserting themselves over both the bad memories and the feeling that things have changed for the worse and can never be the same. May you hold on to the jasmine and the mangoes and good spaces before the difficult ones.

  2. I’m sorry this still brings so much pain to you Annie. I think it might be much the same as experiencing a death yet not having the ability to grasp the end, to be waiting and wanting answers to the why yet caught in the abyss of never knowing. How does one find the capacity to move forward through unanswered questions and emotions…

  3. I wish I could find the right words to help you escape from this prison even for a few minutes. My thoughts are with you.

  4. (((((hugs))))) Annie. This too. Get out and let the sun warm you in some quiet place.
    Alison xoxox

  5. Annie our memories are entwined with the seasons. Some good and some we wish to forget. I hope you find your peace. xxxx

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