Indian Summer

The summer is winding down. The last days of summer are always my favorite, those heavy, hot days in August when everyone tries to squeeze the last ounce of perfect out of the summer. "Indian summer". All the things you meant to do all summer but never did are all crammed into August. Everyone goes out for ice cream, they spend their days running around in the parks, they spend their nights at rooftop bars with trendy cocktails enjoying the breeze as the sun sets.

In many ways, I feel like I could do this all the time. But it wouldn't be as sweet if it was permanent, would it?

I worked my last night at the restaurant on Saturday. It's funny, it is the job I loved to hate. But I really did love to hate it. It was addictive. And I cared about it, as stupid as it was. But leaving work really drove home the point that the summer was over. It brought me to tears, honestly. Everything about my life this summer has radiated from that restaurant. I have met some of the most entertaining people, some that I only spent a brief conversation on and some that I have come to care about in ways I did not expect. I grew up in a way I never had to at college, I got my first taste of what the "real" world is like from that restaurant. I learned about wine and learned to mix cocktails. I learned to appreciate things that I knew nothing about before. And now it's over.

On Sunday, I went to a new church. It was enormous, what we call a "megachurch". It is hard for any non-American to imagine such a thing, thousands of people all worshipping in a building with no alter, no crosses, no stained glass windows, no choir, not even a specific denomination. Instead, it had stadium seating and electric guitars. The church even had a Starbucks Cafe inside of it. To be honest, the whole thing kind of blew my mind as well. But it was nice to be at a church, it is something that I had not realized I missed so much until I went back to it. I'm quite looking forward to the cathedrals of Paris.

I've bought the Julieta Venegas CD (I know, at this point, it's already kind of old and I'm kind of out of it). But I love it. I mean, seriously? I always wrote off "Eres Para Mi" as pathetic Mexican pop sung by some Thalia-wannabe but now I can't stop singing it. And every other song on the CD. She's just so...happy.

I have been so happy lately with things that are so small. I love getting peach Italian cream sodas from a small cafe at the edge of a city park and just spending hours walking and reading and writing and enjoying. I love singing in the middle of the road in Buford when the entire town has already gone to sleep and chasing the train along the tracks each time it passes. I love spending the afternoon in bookstores, buying whatever I feel like or not buying anything at all. I love slow dancing at 3:00 am to songs from the jukebox at trashy 24-hour restaurants. I love all of it.

I only have a few more days of reddish-orange sunsets and cotton dresses and gelato and impromptu lullabies but I am betting that Parisians also know a thing or two about the wonders of Indian summer.