About a week ago, I heard on the news that it was the first day of summer. For the first 23 summers of my life, this actually meant something. It meant that there would be very little rain and lots of daylight. It meant I wouldn't need a jacket when I went outside and I could definitely wear my summer dresses. It meant that it was officially summer, spring showers were supposed to be over. Then last year, I was in England for summer. More specifically, I was in England for the rainiest summer of the past hundred years. There were a few sunny days, but it was mostly rainy, cold and dreary. Many days I sat by the fire to warm up.
And now this year I'm in Jakarta. Talking about summer is a bit of a joke here. In fact, talking about any season is kind of a joke. There are supposed to be two seasons here: Dry and wet. However, very little change occurs between these two seasons. The temperature stays relatively the same, with only a slight variance between hot when it's raining and very hot when it's not raining. We are supposed to be in the dry season now, but the seven-day forecast shows rain almost everyday.
I used to really love the summer heat, but now I long for the crisp, clean smell of autumn, the sharp, piercing cold of winter, and the cool, refreshing mornings of spring. Without a change in season, it's hard to appreciate the sunny summer days. I will be visiting the U.S. in September, and among many other things I look forward to the end of this ceaseless summer. I look forward to a change of scene and season. I look forward to the chill of my home.
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