Dear June

I wanted to remark on how pretty you were this year, darling. You reached out soft, pale green tendrils of hope, an explosion of pink flowers cascading over lush green leaves, roses gently nudging their way into existence, a spattering of buttercups, tall and strong, among the rippling grasses, and so many patches of surprise giant daisies!

One of many surprise fields of giant daisies!

One of many surprise fields of giant daisies!

But oh! How you burned. Your sun rose every morning, intensifying the vivid colours of summer, but as your days progressed she turned fiery, torrid, stifling. She might have been beaming at us for all we know, but she melted our clothes off and forced us to throw open our windows and escape the humid confines of our humble abodes.

Tall and strong buttercups of the country. Taller and stronger than any I have ever seen before!

Tall and strong buttercups of the country. Taller and stronger than any I have ever seen before!

I loved you, June, in all your crowning, flowery glory. Your mornings were dewey and sweet with the scent of pine and honeysuckle. Your evenings were light and airy, when you gracefully shrugged on your gossamer dress, spun with the silk of a thousand flying baby spiders, recently hatched. The nights were heavy with silence, stars, and the scent of fresh, sweet grass and crisp foliage.

You saw me through many humanisms, many small sadnesses, and many grave realisations.

I realised I didn’t understand my mother as well as I would like. I realised that you can’t just brush things under the carpet, and if family members don’t want to push themselves, you have to pick up your own broken pieces and help them do it. I realised that you have to push and push, if you want your shoots to penetrate the sandy membrane of life, and just when you think you are done pushing, you have to push some more. You never stop pushing!

I realised that your parents are not as perfect as your younger self thought they were, that they are very much human and are always making mistakes, just as you are. That you will never stop making mistakes.

That was a little let-down, to be honest. But I am resolving to try my best always, to be my best, to act my best, to never lose control of myself.

You were glorious this year, June, and when you left us you let yourself linger a little, for emphasis. The hottest day in the UK recorded for nine years, was your last day with us. You do love to make an impression!