été

| summer (masculine noun) | /ete/

I’ve never liked summer. Those long, sweltering days make my eyes roll back in my head. I ride out caffeine highs driving swiftly down winding country roads leading to oblivion. I feel weightless and bored. For me, summer is the blank space between the parentheses of springtime and fall. As a student and academic, I’ve always found comfort in a life divided by course schedules and semesters. And for me, summer has always represented a certain pelagic listlessness that never ceases to depress. Insomnia, that childhood friend of mine, returns like clockwork, and I’m left wandering the house at 4 AM. The cat’s awake, and his green marble eyes glow as I make my way through the shadows.

But this summer is different. For the first time in months, I am truly happy. Perhaps I’m happy because this summer is shorter than most. Or maybe I’m relieved because I’ve left behind that heartbroken city of Bordeaux, and I’m excited to explore a new city where I don’t know a soul. Living a life between two countries has left me careless, as if my time in the U.S. is a dream sequence that will end upon waking in France. This is stupid, but I can’t deny the feeling.

Come fall, I’ll find myself caught in the branches of summer, and I’ll cry out for those warm, green days. I creep hesitantly toward August. Stay away, stay away.

About Gabriella

I'm a twenty-something insomniac with a caffeine addiction and chronic wanderlust. I recently graduated with my M.A. in French, and I've spent the past two years living and working as an English teacher in France. I now work as an English professor at a university in Lille, where my students are learning to never omit the Oxford comma.
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