Cara Estate (dear summer),
I wait all year in anticipation of the day when your sun dips low enough toward the earth to warm the sea and air enough for that first swim in the Ionian.
I love your long days, your sweet watermelon, cherries, and peaches, and time spent outside. I love escaping your heat in the mountains, sitting with my new Italian family beneath a giant oak.
I love zipping about on the back of Fra's vespa. Boat rides and aperitivi with friends. Naps.
Best of all, I love floating in the sea, snorkeling to see the marvels that coexist with us beneath the surface, and fare il bagno with Italians who don't swim.
I'm sorry for the many, many, many times I complain about how hot it is. How I say Italians are crazy for not having the air conditioning on full blast 24 hours a day. I know you're just trying to give me more of your summer goodness, though in the middle of the night, drenched with sweat, I may not appreciate your efforts.
And I apologize for bitching about your 25-MPH winds. While I see it as a personal affront on laundry day, you maybe are just feeling playful. Agree to disagree.
Already, there are more visitors arriving in Soverato. Parking is getting hard to find, and the farmer's market is crowded. Still, the Calabrians' idea of what is crowded and mine are different. I'm used to American theme parks, for Pete's sake.
This is not crowded.
I implore you to stay a little longer this year. Indulge us with your gentle breezes and yellow sunshine. Keep the sea swimmable for as long as possible, and don't let that cold, wet winter arrive in your place.
Baci,
Su
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