Please forgive me.

I’m sorry for the things I said about you — the unkind puns about the heat, my complaints over the seasonal swarm of mosquitoes, and my bitterness regarding the sunshine that broiled my skin. I miss you. Winter, that frosty bitch, with her shrill keening, can never replace you in my affections. I tossed you over for Autumn, in the mistaken belief that the romance of crisp falling leaves and the cinnamon scent of pumpkin spice would last forever.

I miss those long ago days by the pool, when my sweat stank of chlorine. I brushed my body with baby oil and blushed red with sunburn. I miss the distant chime of the ice cream truck and its serenade for sugar, cold and frozen on my tongue. Now those tunes are apt to conjure visions of some creepy pervert in a white panel van.

I miss the sound of that last school bell, a sound so far off now it only echoes in memory. If I could have you the way it was back then, I’d leave behind the long daylight hours spent watching Jerry Springer reruns. I’d put on my flip flop sandals and go for endless walks on bubbling asphalt instead. Damning the shade, I’d trade my baby oil for SPF 50 and seek out the sun.

I hope you’ll forgive my infidelity if I flirt with Spring. She’s a shallow beauty in her short, flowered dresses. She promises hope and love but delivers instead a season of tearful allergy cushioned with soggy tissues.

If you come back we’ll celebrate with fireworks and toast our love with marshmallows over a campfire. We’ll turn a deaf ear to storm warnings and plan our honeymoon on a sandy beach. If the world burns we’ll laugh together at the smoke and conjure instead a happy picnic crowd at a barbecue.

Longing to see you again,

Your cold beloved.

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