Dear Summer

dear summer

Dear Summer,


I don’t know if you miss me. For we been together like Nike Airs and fresh tees. The immeasurable seasons we’ve lived under Covid rule and the recent loss of my father make relishing you feel different. We all waited so long for you to come and now that you’re here, I find myself sparring with the days that pass and tallying the days that are still left. I wake up with you on my mind and questions I can’t seem to answer: What am I supposed to do with you? What am I supposed to be doing? Oh Summer, our relationship has been tripping me out lately. 


Teachers teach. And regardless of what they tell you on Twitter, what we do takes so much of our insides out. That’s why I always loved it when we got together. When I was finally able to spend time with you. But these days I don’t know how to treat you, how to spend time with you, how to belong to you. I remember the ways we used to connect. How you would help me recharge and grow. I still take long walks and longer bike rides with you, but now you leave me unfulfilled when I get home. You leave me with a feeling like I need to do more with you because what I’ve been doing over the past few weeks hasn’t been enough. Is it you or me?


I ain’t none of these half-ass newcomers, you know how I do, Summer. I’m talking about years and years ago. When we would both be overflowing with markers and memories. Years ago, I came to the realization that you are such a devilish juxtaposition! So, I thought I had you figured out. Today I realize that you’ve been playing this cruel cruel game with me all along. Letting me sleep in, just so that I would miss you more when I link up with Autumn. Keeping the lights on way later into the night just so that I would think of you when I’m with Winter. I see what you’re doing. 


I still love you though. Don’t ever mistake that. I just wish that we could come to more amicable terms. Ever since you found out that I became a teacher you’ve been subtly sticking it to me. You don’t like that I am able to use you to my full advantage and because of that all you do is play mind games with me. Telling me that you’re leaving soon: I mean do you really have to shove Back to School advertisements in my face in mid July? I just want us to be honest with each other. 


Let’s come to a compromise. You tell me how you would like me to treat you and I promise I will try my best to accommodate. Because for these last three years, you haven’t been acting like yourself at all. And all I want is my old thang back. Can we meet in the middle? 


I don’t know how else I can express this thing I have for you. Did I always like Autumn just a little bit better? Honestly, yes. But after her, everything else reminds me of how much I long for you. Don’t blame me for the fact that I sometimes become preoccupied and think about my job when I’m with you. I can’t help it. I didn’t take that job because of you. If you say you love something you should let it out its cage and if it comes back you know it’s meant to stay. That’s where I position you. A fleeting love. Something I cherish and hope that will reciprocate the value I put towards it. But you haven’t been acting like it. At least not for the last little while. So please Summer, as a seasoned teacher, tell me how to best take care of and cherish you. 

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Matthew R. Morris

Educator, Speaker, Writer

Matthew R. Morris is a writer, speaker, and elementary educator in Toronto. He has an M.A. in Social Justice Education from OISE at the University of Toronto and is the author of the forthcoming book, Black Boys Like Me. 

Matthew R. Morris

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