In My Next Life, I Will Be a Hummingbird
When you say summer I will think of a hummingbird from a poem I read forever ago. Being visited by a hummingbird is a sign of good luck—they are harbingers of good news and that new unpredictable joys are only moments away. Harmoniously, they remind me of summer as they remind you to live in the moment and enjoy the little things.
As I have grown older, I have begun to realize summers move as fast as hummingbirds too. Darting away leaving me alone in September’s crisp air wondering how I let time slip through my fingers again. It feels as though a moment ago I was 15 years old, stressing about which high school classes to take and then I blinked and suddenly it’s five years later and I am taking university classes 15 year old me would have never imagined taking.
I measure time by summers and the months don’t say goodbye anymore and the years don’t kiss you goodnight like they used to. When I was little a month felt like a lifetime and now three years ago feels like yesterday.
I feel like time is moving faster than I can grow. People are leaving before I am ready to let them go and I am missing opportunities left and right. The grief of time moving on when it feels like it is half finished and incomplete. Ending the sentence before you’ve said what you wanted to say.
I don't like how unexpected life can be. I don't like that I can't say a real goodbye to everyone I ever have met. To everyone I have loved or liked. How people leave without saying a word, without realizing, without meaning to. Or how people change into someone else in a moment before you notice.
I like to be horribly straightforward. I will tell you I like you, I will be bold, I'll jump first. I will never know how much time I have with a person. They could be here for a moment, a season, or the rest of my life. Regardless, I always want them to know how much they mean to me. I don't ever want to live a life in wonder about other people’s feelings, or where they wonder about mine. I don’t want anyone to question if I love or appreciate them because I always do.
I think about the kids who I spent my childhood summers with, building bike ramps and playing the summer olympics in the small blow up pool in my backyard and how I haven't seen or talked to any of them in years. How I never really said goodbye, or thank you for shaping me into who I am today. How I didn't understand at that age how important they were to me or how much I would cherish our memories together. Cartwheels, ice cream trucks, monkey bars and playing pretend. “Do you want to come outside and play?”. I hope they know I miss them, I hope that they are doing well.
Summer has always been a moment of growth for me, three months filled with firsts. First loves, first kisses. New friends, new adventures, new inspiration. Skinny dipping at night, sailing on the lake, climbing mountains, pointing out constellations and eating the berries you grew in your backyard. The orange and pink skies, the late nights, I drink it all in and want to live in these moments forever.
The wings of a hummingbird move in the pattern of an infinity symbol bringing the message of eternity, continuity, and infinity. Summers shape who we are, leaving us to reminisce about them for the rest of our lives. I think of the quote by Amelia Nugent, “you still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn’t satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer five years ago”. As I stray further from my childhood and into adulthood, my summers have changed along with me. I am no longer running around at summer camp or staying up late every night with my friends. Instead I am spending my summers working, making sure I can pay for university and living expenses. And every year I am waiting for summer to come around, but as I get older, I crave the summer less and the memories more.
Summer fills my life with adrenaline and change. By the time I’ve reached August I have tasted so many new experiences and feelings that I feel like a completely different person than I did at the beginning of June. August baptizes me in its quiet afternoons and every September I am born again.
Header By Tiana Lam
