That Rockaway feeling

I can feel it’s ending. That Sundays, when everyone rushed to the beach just because we had unseasonably warm weather in late September, there was a pang in my heart knowing we tried our best to grab the remains. Just like when we polish our past bowl with a piece of bread to soak the scrumptious sauce.
The beach was the same, gorgeously lit and warmed by overloaded summer sun, and cooled down by the water nature and breezy wind. The beige sand felt a little rough on my feet, but maybe I was a little too sensitive.
But the food bazaar has closed down, leaving snaky lines in front of the remaining vendors. I didn’t manage to get my last dose of stroberita, the bar closed its curtain before four and I opted for Naraganset from the other seller instead. And at the end of the day, everything felt a bit off. There was something really sad about the fold down the umbrella on top of all the picnic table.
The day was shorter, we talked about this as we were walking down to the van line. It was before 7pm, and the sky already had a dash of pink. We joked around on how winter sucks, but deep inside my heart I know it is never a joke. Oh summer, I know I could never detach my self from you. I tried to smile it off, but it came out bitter. I guess I still couldn’t resist the temptation to hold on to you. I want you to stay, I don’t feel like making space for a new beginning. I want my life to be a forever summer.
But life happens, and northern hemisphere has it’s own thing. This is my test, I guess. I can’t fight something that is not there anymore. That summer feeling, that Rockaway vibes, they don’t come out in pills.
Good times come to an end, they say. I believe they’re making a way for a new beginning. In which at this point I know that it is not always for the worse, it is often for the better. I am hopeful as usual, and believe that time heals. There will be pumpkin season, Halloween party and second season of Stranger Things. I will have more time with my pile of books-to-read and illustrations projects. But as I was sitting in the back seat of the van crossing the bridge going to Flatbush, I wanted to be alone with my whim.
I’m gonna miss you, and I convinced my self that it is okay to feel this way.