one golden summer

peace can be paper and proven

With summer comes peace.

I feel the magic of the lake after a long spring defrost.

I see the dewdrops on the grass after an early sunrise.

I touch the creased pages of a little library book, reminiscent of the people who cherished the stories before.

I smell the black-eyed Susans and bearded iris bloom.

I hear the children’s laughter down the blacktop, sketching hopscotch I’ll attempt upon its completion.

When I don’t make these observations and immerse myself in that of my five senses, I find myself delving into others’ observations– page upon page I turn, existing in a world that is not my own.

I am transported to Barry’s Bay, Ontario, or Cousins Beach, spending my summer on the water in a cabin with the redolent smell of Fraser fir.

Or I am brought out west to a ranch, riding horses with strands of hay in my hair.

In these stories, I find joy.

And if these fictional characters can have a life so good, why shouldn’t I apply the same sense of optimism these novels grant me to my actual life?

With age, it often feels like the so-called magic that coincides with childhood is evaporating, leaving us young adults and beyond grasping for even a drop of the elixir that is youth.

But with books, summer stays golden no matter how many years go by.

My favorite authors, when it comes to summer reads, range from 40 to 61 years old.

Knowing these writers view and describe summer in such an immensely positive light pushes me to read these stories while simultaneously trying to live them.

So, if they still view and describe summer in such an immensely positive light, after experiencing the inevitable changes of being, then I shall read these stories while simultaneously trying to live them.

Peace can come in any form– paper or proven– and balance is what keeps me afloat.

Celia <3