What If Life Was Always Like Summer?

Life would mean so much more if it was always like summer. Being carefree is a gift given to us by sunshine and long days – vacations and day trips are our way of acknowledging the gift of this balmy season. We do things in summer that would never happen in the other three seasons because the rest of life gets in the way and demands our full attention. We have to live according to schedules and deadlines and in doing so, we often forget to be happy. Summer is a break from the forgetting – it demands that you open your eyes to the bright blue sky and embrace the world.

Summer is making plans and also having no plans. It is making time for the people and things we love most. It is also having the freedom to fill a day with doing nothing and not regret that. Summer plans make me buoyant and leave me feeling full. Full of life, full of triumph, full of living. I see life and living differently: life is the whole stretch of time we have that we can choose to ignore while it keeps going and going, while living is acknowledging time’s passing and doing something about it. Living is making life memorable. And that is the biggest opportunity that summer provides me. It’s where some of my biggest and brightest memories have been made. Both through making plans and having no plans, the adventures and the easy resting that comes when a schedule can’t dictate my life’s direction.

Summer means visiting family and having long talks with people I haven’t seen in a while and sometimes people I have never met. Time slows down and it seems the possibilities for filling a day are infinite, limitless. Summer is for dreaming and believing that life can be all it promised to be when we were younger. That there are days that fill our hearts with some much joy that they could burst. Perfect days that shape us, that give us a sense of happiness that lingers with our souls for the dreariest of days that inevitably always come.

Stretching my arms out wide as I gaze towards the horizon, wandering a winding path through unending trees, laying in bed with a good book while daylight brightens and fades – these are the moments that summer offers me, making it mean so much. Summer is wide-open roads, the wind, and rolling clouds, having no place to be while going somewhere.

If life was always like summer, we would be living in a dream, in limbo. The realities of life would disappear and we would be so much happier. But I guess that would dull the brightness that summer offers us, making it less special. Summer is happiness and sunshine, and loving the gift of being alive, appreciating all we have and all we can be. And that just has to be enough to make the rest of life worth it, every single moment.

Rayna Anderson
August 2017

A Game Within the Game of Life

We had to write an anecdote in Grade 11 English, so while this is a real event in my life, some on the details are a bit embellished for *dramatic effect*. My cousins and I were definitely not kids at this point in our lives, but we always seem to have a great time when we play games from our childhood. In an empty campground on a crisp fall night, we decided to play Witches.

Enjoy!

Rayna Anderson
December 17, 2012

The glowing warmth of the campfire quickly faded as we wandered into the black of night. The next round of the game had begun. Wyatt was out there hiding somewhere in the scratchy, damp bushes, and it was our job to find him. To go on the left path or the right path was the decision, as these were the only ways out of the clearing through the dense undergrowth. We split up and parted ways. Nicolas, Cassidy, and I climbed the narrow trail to the right at the pace of snail and emerged in an empty campsite. We didn’t want to get caught, so our guard was up against every minuscule sound. Our ears were strained, listening for rustling leaves or a branch to snap. When we heard nothing of the sort, it could be assumed that Wyatt wasn’t nearby. The chill of the night air made us shiver as the warmth from the fire left our bodies. We gathered under the glow of the dim streetlight and stared wide-eyed into the dark forest. We stood back-to-back so as not to be caught from behind. The night air was crisp and our noses tingled with cold as the fresh air was inhaled deeply into our now cold lungs. I wondered where Justin was and what he was doing as our small pack inched carefully along the skinny dirt road. Then I saw a lumbering, dark figure ahead. The Anderson height was evident. Which of the boys was it? He appeared to be sticking to the middle of the road as he made his way toward us, peering into the bushes just as we were. This made me more certain that it was Justin, but I wasn’t taking my chances. Continue reading