It’s June. One of my favorite months. It’s this time of year that I usually feel a deeply held pang of remembrance for one particular summer of my youth. This remembrance creeps in like the gentle mist of a warm, soft evening. As the month goes further and further into the sweetness of strawberries and swimming my memories of that one perfect season grow ever more present.

It’s May. I’m home from college in Boston. A small art school at Suffolk University to be exact. I had recently found freedom from an abusive boyfriend of three years. I was reveling in this newness of being.

I.

Was.

Free.

Free to wear what I wanted. To be where I wanted. To see whomever I wanted. To think whatever I wanted. To kiss whomever I wanted. My summer job is set as well as several house sitting gigs. I have endless plans for socializing and exploring more of my favorite places…the Ottauquechee river, the never ending maze of back roads that make up the hills around Woodstock where I live, my best friend Prima’s house where her parents have become my second parents, amongst other various places that makeup the region of Vermont that I adore so much. A place of verdance once the trees have finished their annual emergence.

My job is the same as last year. Working for my friend Toni in her store downtown, Arjuna. To step into her shop is to step through time itself. Surrounded by jewelry, beautiful gifts, Indian silk pillows, vibrant clothes, antique furniture and art objects along with a myriad of other offerings to stir the imagination. There is no other place to match hers for its array of color, texture, and scent of far off places & people.

On a bright day in mid-June in walks her gardener. Tall. Lithe. Lusciously sun kissed. His name is Nathan. We say hi and he goes to talk to Toni about something on the property. He leaves. Toni, knowing what’s on my mind, immediately starts telling me about his wife, their three year old son, and when their little girl is due later that summer. Cue massive disappointment.

The weeks go by. Nathan pops into the store from time to time to ask a question or, for some reason, hang around for a minute before going up to her house to work. I notice that this keeps happening. An opportunity arrises for a blind date set up by a friend, Prima to be exact. She thinks I’d hit it off with her friend James. James is a year younger than me. He has shorn hair. He works at EMS. He has a vintage BMW. He has glasses and an enormous smile that I instantly fall for when we meet for dinner. I, in my dark blue dress, hair long down my back, skin just starting to tan from swimming and laying in the hammock. I remember the sky from that night after James had followed me back to my house sitting gig. The stars were perfect. The hammock held us until we could no longer hold ourselves and we make our way into the bedroom for an evening of no sleep. In the morning he departs and we agree that we would like to see each other again in August once he gets back from his backpacking trip. I am left excited and giddy.

And, since this is the summer of doing what I want I am still receptive to the attention of others. Specifically a tall, lithe, sun kissed gardener. My flirtation with Nathan ebbs and flows over July. I find reasons to stop up at Toni’s house when I know he’s working. I have to grab something for the shop. I need to spend the day in her beading studio making items for the shop. I have to…I have to…I have to…because after three years of shrinking myself I long for the admiration of men. In those moments of ‘have to’ and ‘real quick before I go’ we find the openings to reveal ourselves. He married her because she got pregnant..he is unhappy…I was abused…I was unhappy.

One day I am in the shop when he stops by. This is the first time he notices the tattoos on my ankles, obtained the summer before on a whim. He squats down to examine each of them. I am wearing a somewhat short skirt that day because I know that I am working in the store and this is an opportunity to wear something pretty. I take advantage of this every time I can. My wardrobe for the past few years had been an eclectic mix of thrifted & vintage items. Sometimes, like today, I wear a skirt that I made from a recycled pair of jeans. I had so much fun with my clothing choices back then. It is in this moment, of him lowering himself to examine a part of me, that I know I’ve won. I know that I will consummate this slow burn. I don’t know yet when. But I know.

Then, it’s early August. Toni is at a show in NY. I’m house sitting for her. The previous week, Nathan had said that he would stop by when I’m up at the house. Maybe we would do something…I know exactly what we are going to do. It’s morning. Amy, my co-worker, is also at the house to grab a few things for the shop before she goes in for the day. Perry, the groundskeeper for the estate is also there to check in about the mowing. I know who will arrive soon and I am anxious for everyone to leave. Just. Leave.

Finally they do and I am left alone with the dogs. I change into my dark blue cotton kimono. Nathan arrives. We chat for a few minutes. He came up to offer me a massage…his wife is a massage therapist. We find some oil. I lay on the bed under the coolness of a crisp white cotton sheet. I am taken away to a place of forbidden touch. I know this is wrong. His wife is about to have their second baby. I don’t care. I want what I want. What I want is him. In that bright morning of August sunshine. In an old house on a hill in the peak of summer warmth. I turn over. Still covered. He looks at me, whispers, “we don’t have to do this.” “I know,” I whisper back as he presses into me. We kiss. We melt. Covered in oil we are two snakes sliding over each other in the softness of this bed.

Three days later his daughter is born. Some dates stick with you. August 8th. I know it’s over. It has to be. Common sense sweeps over me and in an instant I understand the consequences of my actions. He calls me asking to meet on the green that evening. I agree. I can tell he is a mess of confusion and elation. He tells me what he wants. I can not give it to him. He leaves disheartened. I feel as much remorse as is possible for a 19 year old relishing in a season of selfishness, self absorption, and self discovery. I quickly move on however because I know that James has returned from his trip. We make plans for him to come over at my next house sitting gig.

He arrives at the ancient house in Pomfret on a long back road. Surrounded by lilacs this house has a magic to it that suspends time. It rambles on in an unfolding continuation of room upon room upon room. One nook leading into the next asking to be discovered. It’s early evening. I don’t remember if we eat or not. Our intentions are clear. This house has a stillness to it. In that stillness I fill the space with the soft undulation of music. This is an evening of understanding. Knowing that neither is in a place to successfully support a long distance relationship. We savor the sweetness of each other for as long as is possible. At one point James tells me that I am beautiful. I look him in directly in the eyes, “thank you,” I reply. He remarks that I’m not like other girls, that I don’t shrink away when complimented or say “no I’m not.” I tell him, “because I know how to receive a compliment.” Later on in the evening I have my first out of body experience. This is my first experience of a lover who is attentive to my needs. My desires. My pleasure. And this is our last breathe together. In the morning he leaves, but not before we bless the backseat of his BMW with our loving

As I sit to reflect on this blissful summer I am now forty. It is the last day of June. A month this year that started out chilly & wet has ended in a crescendo of storms & heavy mist. My skin is starting to tan. My hair once again flows long down my back. My priorities focused on savoring each day of warmth and whatever else comes with it until the chill of autumn returns.