Summer Holidays

Above the tempting pastries known all over the world, miniature promotional calendars noted, ‘the next couple days were designated, reflection holiday’. Carefully sipping, early morning English Breakfast tea, the sensitive action reminded me about the body count, since our mother country run by King George released its grip bringing resolution to the bloody conflict nearly two and a half centuries ago, claiming ‘not worth the expense’.

“Are you passing through?” The Brew N Stir Diner/Café cashier handling financial flow duties inquired.

“No, I actually own property here,” I clarified.

“Well, happy,” quickly her comment halted, “season’s greetings, it is going to get hot, global loving warmth, you know.”

Suddenly, my attention distracted when a youthful pair finished their coupling business, “Billy,” I heard, “don’t be a hero, don’t be a fool with your life.”

Ignoring the pacifist advice, Billy sent a message, “I must go, defeat the enemy, it’s the American way.”

Not giving it another thought, I started hiking back towards my vacation escape villa. Following a well-maintained path, encountering legendary haunting tricky trees, I investigated a tourist friendly gimmick. Standing behind the push cart boutique, a driver using super strength, empowered the setting, while his buddy sat in a chair staring into space.

“Hark, who goes there,” the character inside the small confines hollered.

“I do, Mr. Profiteer,”

“And you are?” Roger kept the dialogue going,

“The owner of that cabin,” I pointed through the shady bark, “and who are you?”

“No need to discuss details, we go from here to there and give the kids a healthy maturing scare,”

“Maturing scare?”

“We send them home hearts a beating filling their juvenile minds with an interpretive experience that grows chest hair,” Engine Lloyd added.

“Enjoy the weekend,” I acknowledged picking up the pace, distancing myself from the peaceful conversation despite observing identification card documents, lying idle where anyone could interact with data.

Hours ticked away and I had my radio playing, while watching the placid lake present a blinding crystal portrait, when the sun’s beaming spotlight blazed the water. “Breaking news,” a voice interrupted the music, “he left her, Miss Sin over.”

These tragic romantic words broadcasted went through me, leaving my mind quickly as I continued to watch the birds fish with only one thing on their mind, dinner.

Peering to my right those travelling vendors quietly went about their business, and I tried waving, but a branch blocked the hospitality attempted motion.

When the forty-eight-hour weekend period ran its course, I decided to get exercise, jogging down to the shopping village performing the old glory commerce tradition. Once again there were the two gentlemen from the push cart boutique distributing red and black poppies.

“I went to church yesterday, and I wiped my eyes dry,” the young Brew N Stir customer explained accepting the flower gesture.

“Oh hello,” she greeted me, seeing my shirtless biceps.

“Happy,” she halted her thought.

“Season’s greetings,” I corrected.

“I now have a military person to mourn,” she reported sad news, choking up, “he did not want a job, he wanted an adventure.”

Reality raised its eyebrow, and I realized the island city metropolis providing private cubicles were now my ten-day agenda priority item, surrendering recreational needs to corporate strategizing, coming up with new idea obligations, replacing sunset relaxing.

Soon the hour struck, allowing a return to the resort paradise, I pulled off at a rest stop servicing beach patrons feeling confident, ‘work successfully completed’. Still wearing my corporate attire, I stepped out, climbed the wooden steps, monitored the same mysterious child turned adult confront sandy conditions, battling with a facial expression interpreted as “I was attacked yesterday but I am fighting today.” Taking a deep breath, I turned around, spotting Engine Lloyd and Roger working the push cart boutique. selling half price watches next to trinkets.

Laughing getting the point, I mumbled, “it must be time to do something.” Unlocking, opening the driver side, I glanced at the newspaper dateline, June 6th.

Almost one month later, the night sky offered a beautiful postcard photograph featuring a full moon production, headlining serene darkness until someone disrupted the private atmosphere.

Putting down the popcorn bowl, I answered the guest wanting relations, “what can I do for you?”

“I am declaring my independence tonight, and I heard you had a great firework’s viewing spot.”

“I do, may I ask you? Your name?”

“Miss Sin,” she answered acting teasingly enthusiastic.

During the colorful crackling display I put my arm around Miss Sin, and she blushed, “I said my goodbyes to Billy long ago I was just dumping him off at the bus stop.”

Accepting her words, I felt trust in the innocent cuddling embrace. “Do you think we American’s are hawks, vultures or Eagles?” She tested my human qualities, and the cricket orchestra serenaded the evening.

When the sun made its appearance, I held my coffee cup tight, spotting the push cart boutique approaching. “good morning,” I opened the conversation, “what do I owe this visit?”

“We just were wondering if you enjoyed the festivities last night?” Investigated the bartering barkers.

“Had a nice fourth,” I responded.

“Nothing scare you last night. Mr. Profiteer?” Engine Lloyd checked.

“No,” I honestly replied.

“Why would something scare him?” Miss Sin emerged.

“No, no reason,” the pair retreated.

Throughout the long August dog days, the temperatures increased but unlike other summers this one seemed special.

Only weeks were left, and another classic autumn would descend on the tranquil environment, giving Miss Sin a reason to come over assisting me in preparing the property for winter. When we completed the seasonal ritual Miss Sin, and I decided a dinner date would be a nice ending. While strolling through the close-knit community we bumped into the push cart boutique.

“When is Labor Day?” Roger peered into Miss Sin’s eyes, and she retaliated showing him a finger graced with a beautiful ring. “We set a wedding date, I will be a June bride,” she paused, “sixth to be precise.”

Going into a shock state, the two sales men had trouble breathing, “did I scare you?” Miss Sin giggled watching them abandon ship.

When things calm down, I expressed, “I just wanted to tell you this was my best summer here,” and Miss Sin grinned, “I know.”