The days of summer

The best summers are those of your childhood. But you may not know it then. My childhood summers were spent at home as we didn’t have a hometown or village to go to.

Dad was traveling most of the time and summer meant just me and mom at close quarters. We had our petty fights, but also moments where we spoke to each other and shared confidences. We also took long walks to the market in the evenings, sometimes stopping by at the second-hand bookseller’s shop. It was taken for granted then, but today I miss such moments more than anything.

But once I started working I realised that summers are meaningless as an adult. You don’t have a “summer break”. A time to do nothing if you so wish, to recuperate from the stress of working all year.

The last summer that mom was alive is now my favourite summer. My dental treatment meant an enforced break for a month. And though I spent it on a liquid diet and with visits to the dentist every other day, it was still a lot of fun. We ate omelettes and watched The X-Files on TV, even played board games. It was a blessed time and seemed like it would go on forever.

The simplest pleasures are the toughest to find, especially because they involve your favourite people and the sad truth is they may not always be around.

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