She Said: When Does Summer Really End?

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By Giovanna Gatto

Managing Editor (Editorial)

It’s time to tuck away your tank tops and break out your warm clothing because the summer has come to an end. The calendar might say that this 2017 summer ends on September 22nd, but for me summer has always been defined by the start and end of the school year.

However, as I enter my senior year and my last true summer break comes to a close, I can’t help but rejoice.

Summer is sweat and sunburn. It is shorts and chaffing. And frankly, I could do without it.

As a child, I was oblivious to the pains of summer. It used to be a time when I went swimming and was freed from the agony of government-influenced education. As a kid, I thought that summer was when I could eat what I wanted to and take naps while my mom refused to turn off The Food Network.

It was not until I reached high school that my hormones taught me what it was like to sweat. I very quickly turned into the kid in gym class who would sweat profusely while stretching, and needless to say, summer and I no longer got along.

So while I dread my baptism into adulthood and post-graduate life, I am excited to redefine my summers. With school out of the way, the summer months of the year now turn into a period of opportunities and challenges.

In fact, I have recently been preparing for this upcoming reality. I’m now ready for the transition into fall, the greatest season and a true gift from Mother Nature.

All around campus I have noticed that people seem to be confused by the weather. Students have been wearing tank tops, shorts and even flip flops. I understand they may simply be responding to the weather forecast, but I still stick to my religion: wearing long pants and sweaters—the uniform of my beliefs—is an outward representaion of summer coming to an end.

I can see why you might think that my logic is blurred, but I consider myself a peaceful protestor. Even if global warming sometimes challenges my ideology, I still stand tall with my flannels and hot coco.

Don’t get me wrong! I still respect my pal Ryan’s love for summer, but only in regards to the beach. I like to think I’m a beach person, but I would much rather be cuddled in a blanket by the fire any day.

For me, the beach is not defined by bathing suits and sandy feet. In fact, I think that the fall would actually be a more appropriate time to enjoy the beach. There are less crowds, less sweat and more peace. I can understand how Ryan finds clarity in the atmosphere of the beach. It has a way of making me feel like I have nothing in the world to worry about. Yet, I would rather visit the beach after the summer’s end—and more importantly, without the sweat.

Aside from unemployment, my post-graduation plan is to remove summer from my seasonal life. Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. If I can somehow land a deal with Mother Nature to make a heat limit of 65 degrees, then maybe I would be okay with summer ending on September 22nd. But for now, you can find me in my winter coat and snow boots, wandering around campus on these abnormally-hot fall days.

 

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