Summer Fear

What it is about summer days, bright and clear that fill me with anxiety? Shouldn’t summers be a time for excitement and joy? Should I not remember my school days when weather like this was portent and promise of months of freedom with my friends? Maybe once, but now the days are lurking outside, the sun shines on the edge as if waiting for me to accept my good fortune so it can drop another bomb.

Summer nights are better for me. That time does not judge like summer days. In warm shadow I am not exposed. Among crickets and moths I can neglect and procrastinate. Under cool moonlight I can hide, fraud, liar, thief. The stars don’t judge, they barely notice if I don’t do all I could have done. Their indifference is a blessing.

Sunshine is stark and inviting and alien to me. Somewhere in my life, at some pivotal moment, I was given too much responsibility and the sun knows it and shines and watches. And judges.

And if I brave to think this day in all its yellow and green, blue and warm is deserved, I know to expect a reminder. The shoe is perched and waiting. Daring me to relax.

Anxious days with no excuse but fear. Shining, brilliant, hot and breezy fear.