Summer's last kiss

I took a break from writing to go for a run in the park. Well, I wouldn't call it a run, exactly. More like a shambling trot. I used to be able to run. Then I jogged. Now I trot. As long as I'm not crawling, who cares. Getting outside is good for the brain. And it's the last kiss of summer.

This time of year is always bittersweet. I love the golden light, the warm air, the luscious green leaves. But too soon, it ends. I wax maudlin every year about this time. I got a little weepy in the park just now, as I stood next to a lamppost, creakily stretching my legs and staring into the setting sun. Swallows looped silently overhead, in and around, up and down, snatching at invisible insects. The sky was devoid of clouds, and the sun was huge and red with the ash of Washington wildfires. I soaked it up, wishing I could store that light for later. I'm going to need it in a few short months when I'm dragging with SAD.

It might have been the setting sun, or the fact that I was wearing sunglasses, or it might just have been me waxing weepy, but I kept seeing people in the park who resembled people I knew long ago. I knew it wasn't them, because they looked just like they did when we were teenagers. One was my first official boyfriend, I'll call him Steve. I was 16, he was 19 (can you say underage?). He was a runner, a gaunt young man with a long torso and short legs, and long wavy dark hair that fanned out behind him as he ran. Now Steve could run. No trotting for that boy.

Seeing this modern version of Steve glide by in the setting sun reminded me of how simple things seemed when I was young and stupid. I'm just as stupid as I was, in a lot of ways, and now I'm not young. Being young and stupid is sort of cool if you wear the right clothes, but not if you are old and stupid.

Talking about how stupid I am is stupid. I'm going to stop that now and reflect on other things. Like the homeless person's tent I saw off to the side of the trail, on the flank of the caldera. No wonder I always smell pot when I run past that place. Like the difficulty of dodging piles of dog poop and wandering slugs while one is wearing sunglasses in the twilight. Can't see with them, can't see without them: Be ready to scrape your shoes later. Like the sudden epiphany about how to organize Chapter 4 of my dissertation.

It's not all bad. Neither is it all good. And it's not both, as those who subscribe to yin and yang would have us believe. It's somewhere in between. Yes, today seems like the last kiss of summer, but there will be nice days in the fall, and yes, even in the winter. Life happens, that's all. Good, bad, it is difficult to tell. Today the VP of Whatever emailed me to say that next Friday I can come to campus and interview any faculty who are willing. I think that might be good. But it's hard to tell.