Summer came in warm kisses and skin that melted in gold. There seemed no transition from sunrise to sunset, the light of the season was just there no matter what time I opened my eyes. I’d always hated the summer, preferring instead the cool embrace of the snow, but I’d changed. You changed me.
You said you lived off some exotic coast; I didn’t understand the name so never remembered it. I regret that. I regret it every day.
We ate outside, took long walks along a promenade that looked more Cannes than Blackpool, sat watching the tide lap our toes, but it was never enough. I hurried from one moment to the next instead of savouring the ones I lived in. I think that’s the message I’d have given our grandchildren, savour each moment.
You left on a midday flight, disappearing into eternal summer in a plane dressed in red and gold. I watched until the speck that was your carriage blended with the last of the summer’s midges, both so short lived. Dark clouds rushed in to fill the void left by your runaway smile; Autumn came early that year. To be honest, it never really left.