The Last Ride

Watch Hill. Summer sunset.

The sun is still warm, even hot, but there is something else about late September that says winter is coming. It’s an aroma. There is something in the air and a feeling in your stomach that tells you one more summer is slipping away.

It’s the same feeling we have when we are children. The excitement and dread of a coming school year. A sense we are losing something. This year. This summer. Forever. What follows will never be the same as this.

One last trip to the beach. One last ride on the carousel as parents watch from the other side of the picket fence. Seeing the thrill on their children’s faces. Knowing there is no real danger.

The smell is from the leaves slowly baking through June, July, and August now almost done, ready to turn. Mixing here with the salt air.

A line forms for one last taste. The shadows grow long.