she's
actual
size

No. No, no, no. It's too soon.

Knowing that I didn't have to be at work until the middle of the afternoon, I luxuriously let myself sleep in past 11am. Two things, however, marred the last hour or so: an ever-increasing urge to urinate, and a deep headache from the beer I drank last night.

When I finally dragged myself from bed, it was with a terrible groan. I didn't want to get up. I just wanted to sleep until the headache went away. But my bladder eventually convinced me to rise.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, working up the motivation to actually stand up, when I heard it. The buzzing started very low and soft, but quickly swelled to an irritating volume. I glanced at the shaded window in dismay.

"No..." I moaned softly. "It can't be."

By the time I stood and had taken a faltering step towards the window, the sound had stopped. I realized that I had been holding my breath, and I let it out with a whoosh.

I went to relieve myself, washed my face and put in my contacts. I dressed solemnly, and opened the shades to look out into the sunny world.

I didn't see anything amiss, nor did I expect to. But I stood there and listened to the day for a long time. I heard kids laughing, a lawnmower mowing, and cars driving. The buzzing was gone.

But I know it'll be back.

You see, that noise I heard was a cicada.

Last year was our year for the seventeen-year cicadas. They started calling in early summer, and by August their choruses were deafening. Last year, being the year that the seventeen-year cicadas emerged, wasn't normal. Most of the time, the cicadas don't sing until summer is wrapping up its run.

The cicadas sing summer's death knell.

This is my last summer here. This is my last summer to have free reign over all the places that I grew up with, all the places that I used to play in. This is my last summer to sit idly and watch the lightening bugs after the sun has set. This is my last summer to pop over to my parents' house whenever I want to steal fresh vegetables from their garden. This is my last summer to sit out on the patio at BW-3 on a lazy Saturday night, sipping my beer and laughing at the frat boys. This is my last summer to sit on my patio under a warm Ohio sun and just chill.

I haven't done all that yet. I haven't crammed as much summer into my life as I wanted to yet.

After this summer, it'll all be different. Coming down here will result in a crush of people to see, things to do. Rush here, rush there, and before you know it... It's time to go home. To Canada.

Perhaps I'm being too emotional about this... But when I heard that cicada this morning, all I wanted to do was burst into tears.