One decent summer

Is that a lot to ask?

I will be 65 next year. All being well, I may live for another ten years, possibly fifteen.

I have always worked hard, and in jobs that helped people too. I have never asked for anything.

Now I am asking

I am not religious, but I do have a strange belief in fate.

I would like to have one last decent summer.

The sort of summer where you feel warm grass under your feet.

When you can sit outside in the evening, enjoying a drink and watching the sunset.

One where you wake up to sunshine, and end the day in the same way.

Days when you think of somewhere nice to go, and manage to enjoy the trip.

An evening spent watching the bats fly, and listening to the late calls of birds.

Instead of a nonexistent summer, characterised by rain and gloom.

Where the lights are on at 11 am, and stay on until bedtime.

A time of wet, damp, house-arrest, and depression.

Eyes swollen from hay fever, legs raging with itchy rashes.

No inclination to explore, to venture forth, discover something new.

Sodden clothes, umbrellas drying, and the sound of rain on the roof.

One decent summer. That’s all I ask.