Summer Reminiscing

Summers used to be the one to mark my every year, all through out my stay in The Philippines. Those three months of clear sky, early rising sun, star studded evenings, failed weight-loss attempts, green grass, and if lucky, the beach. Oh the list just goes on and on and on. That last dismissal bell before summer was perhaps the loveliest sound of the year, aside from vague violin sounds you'd catch every afternoon near the apartments.

But summers, for me, go way beyond that. Summers are very much my own private archives of everything that may have taken place within the whole year and not just within the three months of summer itself. Specific dramas, love, meetings, farewells, travels, are systematically kept in these folders named by the years. Each folder comes with sub-folders named after people who played rather memorable roles during the given time.

My first summer ever would paint images of Grace Lukas and how i helped her out with her summerjob at the store. Not to forget David Reynolds, Melvin, Lonny, Yanthy... Helped them mow lawns all over, though mostly all we did was sit around under the coconut trees. Not exactly the perfect spot to be hiding from the skin piercing sun but it was fun. And then there was that summer in 2003, silly dramas (organizational and personal) followed by the heart breaking farewell with The Reynolds. The following years included more heart breaking goodbyes and first attempts on, errr, love. Also The Siapcos' return from the states which automatically added people and laughter into the seemingly dying bubble (at that time) and that one christmas break in 2005 when i visited Jakarta and managed to find life, thank God. I then made new (and to some, more than just long lasting) friends and had a crappy-but-not-too-bad New Years Eve to look back on. Ok it was bad, but hey i had friends and once again felt at home in the morbid city. Had people to miss me when the break was over. Had people i wanted to see the next summer when i once again visited.Ah, memories never die, do they?

All those stories--so significant and well kept, i could spell out details if you wanted me to--marked by just the three months of each year's summer.

Now back home in a country without certain months to specifically entitle 'Summer', it's almost like I've lost track. Eventful days, nights, hours, minutes, would pass and overlap with one another, eventually dismissing themselves from my yearly time line as absentminded me would start losing track of the littlest things like the day and date.

Maybe i really have lost track--to certain defensive excuses like a busy daily schedule (which is such a stupid lie). Or maybe things have really been less significant, regardless all the lovely people and lovely times.

Or maybe i just need to move on. But can i ever? Can we ever?