“I told you to leave summer all year long.
You didn’t—you said it can’t be, why would it, somewhere else.
Then I ran to the sea, went into it, under it, and held my breath.
I lived like that for three more seasons. Until summer came again.”
Sometimes, between two people, there isn’t really a conflict—just two different ways of seeing the world. One says: it’s not possible. The other feels that life should be lived as if it were always summer.
Summer is not just a season. Summer is a state. It’s that moment when you’re not rushing anywhere, when the light feels longer than the day, and simple things become enough: water, sky, one deep breath.
But life doesn’t always follow what we wish. Autumn comes with its questions, winter with its long silences, spring with beginnings that ask for patience. And then someone says: “See? It can’t be summer all year.”
Maybe they’re right.
And still, there are people who find another way to remain in summer. Not by changing the seasons, but by changing how they move through them.
When I ran to the sea and slipped under the water, it wasn’t an escape from the world. It was a way of keeping summer inside me. Under the water, for a few seconds, everything becomes quiet. There are no explanations anymore, no arguments, no why’s. Just the breath you hold and the feeling that you are alive.
This is how you sometimes pass through the other seasons of life: holding inside you a memory of summer.
When the days grow shorter, when people become more hurried, when doubts appear and answers become too logical, there is a part of you that remembers the sea, the light, the warm air. That part knows summer hasn’t disappeared. It’s just waiting.
And so you live like this, on the inside, through three more seasons.
With a little light kept in the pocket of your heart.
With the promise that, one day, without explanations and without arguments, summer will return.
Because sometimes you don’t need to convince the world to leave summer all year.
It’s enough to learn how to carry it with you. 🌊☀️