Summer

By Hannah Hippmann

Her hands lay flat on the metallic-plastic scented trampoline, feeling the embroidered strands of bristly grass and string soothe her. Her neighbour, whose name and face are just out of memory’s grasp, sat beside her, the friend’s giggling laughter sprinkling the toasty dusk air. The sky was marbled with sunset orange, periwinkle, and cerulean, topped with clouds that were messily painted. Her droopy eyes drifted to sleep, never imagining this scene would soon become an aged photograph locked away in my treasure box.

Summer

I often reminisce about my childhood memories, sometimes blissfully and sometimes chastising myself for not taking more photos and keeping in touch with people. My younger self seems more like a distant, faded friend than a past self. I can’t even bring myself to refer to her as “I.” She’s not me, and I’m not her.

 My mother used to tell me I should study during the holidays and I scoffed at the thought of wasting my precious out-of-school time. Yet a few years later, here I am spending my summers at Starbucks. No, this protagonist isn’t on a lunch date with her friends. I’m sipping on my daily iced americano, my noise-cancelling headphones playing “classical music to study to” on Spotify. The once-beloved marbled sky, obstructed by my textbooks and laptop. I’ve become hell-bent on writing better, memorising dates and quotes, sailing through new maths content, thoughts preoccupied with the impending summer and what approaches me after. Nevertheless, I wish to be with that old friend, to curl up, to be blinded by that sun-shimmer from the ends of my eyelashes. I wish, more than anything, to experience peace.

These summers will evolve too, with greater stressors imposed. I’ll reminisce about how the mark I got on the latest assignment, or how so-and-so was gossiping about a supposed friend was insanely important. Here, I’m presented with a dilemma: would it be better to stay in the past, protected from unknown challenges, or to venture into the future and face hardships? Summers measure this, each marking an unexpected new era.

“Ignorance is bliss”

I was holistically happier in my youth, oblivious to a plethora of concepts and lacking experience – a double-edged sword. I never grasped and defined love, never learnt, overcame challenges, was successful, travelled, and was never independent. I never asserted myself, let alone knew what that meant. However, I understand why Peter Pan didn’t want to grow up. I, like him, fear those responsibilities and changes that accumulate with growth. My undeveloped mind failed to comprehend how cruel people could be. How cruel and selfish I could be. I never felt drained. Money used to mean buying a plushie from Kmart, not the definer of opportunities and rights like education and food.

Arguably, my visceral human experiences are what made my childhood meaningful. Summers wouldn’t be missed if you never encountered winter, right? My childhood wouldn’t be reminisced about if I had never grown. Vulnerability proved I have a heart. Crying over marks is superficial, but it teaches me the value of effort and my ambition. Heartbreak only exemplified my capacity for emotion. My endeavours, failed or not, made me appreciate and comprehend how life is priceless.

While I can’t foresee my future, I know it will provide me with much more knowledge than I possess now. Perhaps I will propel society and inspire generations to come. Perhaps I become lost and pray for my childhood’s return. At least I will be a complex individual with my own multi-faceted, expressive, and intriguing story, rather than a one-dimensional book of uneventful happiness.

Summers are trinkets to be proudly adorned on my neck, not kept in a treasure box. New summers are bewildering, yes, like running in a foreign land with my eyes shut and hands fastened behind my back. But moving is better than staying in one spot forever, not even knowing my surroundings.