“Writing about summer is like writing about happiness. It is not meant to be dissected and probed and picked apart. It is meant to be lived.” Exactly, Ramya! It’s kind of like Tolstoy’s observation that happy families are all alike and unhappy families are unhappy in their own way. But that is the Summer of childhood, all bright surfaces. I like your insight that for us adults, both summer and happiness always have something darker lurking beneath. No wonder we feel nostalgic for those halcyon days.
And now I’m going to read your other 3 seasonal essays! 🌱
It's only here, I find myself wishing to read aloud. To taste the words.
“Writing about summer is like writing about happiness. It is not meant to be dissected and probed and picked apart. It is meant to be lived.” Exactly, Ramya! It’s kind of like Tolstoy’s observation that happy families are all alike and unhappy families are unhappy in their own way. But that is the Summer of childhood, all bright surfaces. I like your insight that for us adults, both summer and happiness always have something darker lurking beneath. No wonder we feel nostalgic for those halcyon days.
And now I’m going to read your other 3 seasonal essays! 🌱
Well, you said very nicely- summer does not last long enough and that instills a gripping fear! Very nice “summer” reading! 😊