posted on Sep, 9 2016 @ 04:07 PM
It really is the end of summer, right here, right now. I can hear the early September wind gusting along the street and the rain is tapping on my
windows. I can hear too, the sound of something or other being blown about and am prompted to glance out of my window at my new old car. Just
checking. It is a lovely dark shiny green. I have never owned a green car before and I like it. It looks good in the rain.
I always know too, when the end of summer is here. The letterbox on my back door begins to rattle. Not all the time. Just enough to keep me on my toes
and give me a start now and then. I will have to tape it up with a little masking tape. I wonder if my neighbours have to do that too. The river
behind my home funnels the wind and sometimes it moans and howls. Not now though, not yet, just a little letterbox rattling.
When I was a chid, I loved the freedom Summer brought. Freedom to explore the woods and the parks, the canals and the rivers. Summer was a magical
time. The ending of summer was like the ending of freedom. Things change though, as they always do, and during my teenage years summer's end began to
represent that freedom. Early September rain washed away more than just the dirt and dust from those city streets. I was free to roam in a new