When Summer Ends

When Summer Ends

There lives an old man with an amputated leg accross the street from my parents house, he looks like a Vietnam veteran. The flag that hangs from his window gives away his Cuban heritage, and is often accompanied by his care taker. Every summer he drags out his beach chair to his front yard; he sits there shirtless, wearing only shorts, knee high socks and black worn-out dress shoes. Since moving to this house, that my parents live in now, the old man sits outside of his house boasting in the summer sun come every end of spring.

Summer is the season when most people find love, advanture, spiritual moments and just plain fun. When I was younger I played with my brother, sister and cousins outsdie in the street; playing basketball, baseball, football, water-ballon fights, tag and any other game that we could think of. Sitting on the steps of my grandmothers house laughing because of a sudden breeze. Our parents, squeezing ten of us into my uncles van to watch an old Disney classic at a drive in. Swiming in the local community pool where we would see all of our elementary classmates. Having a carne asada just for the heck of it; the older folks would sit near the shade and talk about the changing times, the men would sit near the cooler of beer and laugh at jokes and teases, the women would sit around the table drinking Coronas with lime singing and smiling.

Summer time as a child was and always will be awesome; not having any worries, doubts, expectations or realizations of life. I remember getting excited when the sprinkler was going to spin our way again, recieving that cooling bliss was ecstacy. Summer is wondrous because it reminds me to appreciate my memories and family. The sun comfort us with love and opened our eyes to see what the land had to offer. I remember laying down on the table of my aunt’s patio enjoying the summer wind while listening to our favorite radio station; Power106. Looking up at the fading afternoon sky, hoping that summer would never end.

Like the leaves of my grandfather’s avacado tree, the weather changes. In a blink of an eye I’m asking myself, “what am I doing with my life?” With so many problems in the world today, one forgets the simplest of times. I usually run to my window and wait for the love that the summer breeze whispers to my skin. I was sitting on the steps of my parents house listenning to my ipod, when I noticed the old man from accross the street. He walked outside of his house holding his beach chair. He looked from one end of the block to the other, then gazed at the sky and pondered at the scenery of the empty block. He looked back into his house and walked back inside. That’s when I knew that summer had come to an end.