Of course, if you warned me then, I would have still soaked it all in. I had an incurable addiction to the glorious rays that made my skin glisten with the softest sheen of sweat. Pink cheeks, wind-blown hair and shimmering limbs made me irresistible to the shirtless, bronzed boys of summer.
Some of the girls preferred to get glammed up, head to toe and drenched in seductive scents stolen from their mother's mirrored vanity. I suppose some boys were into that look, if they were looking for that type of girl. (and that type of whirl)
Then, there were the ones who preferred the look I naturally sported. The ones who didn't mind swept-back ponytails, caked in sand. The ones who didn't mind chipped nails from climbing treehouses. The ones who rather enjoyed the taste of strawberry sorbet-smudged lips.
Then, there was the One who loved it all, and loved me best. For the last eleven years, we have relived those summers like teenagers rushing head-long into first kisses of the day, and final hugs of the night.
Yes, you could have warned me of the price of that sunshine, but those summers were worth every bit of the last six months of chemo and radiation. It won't be long now. I can see in the way he smooths my ponytail gently so it doesn't cause more hair to fall. My nails are no longer brittle from treehouses. And when he's kissing that strawberry sorbet from my lips, it's because I'm becoming too weak to eat properly.
But he doesn't mind. He still sees me as his shimmering sun goddess.
And he will always be my bronzed boy of summer, long after the winter steals me away.
Image from Pixabay
https://pixabay.com/photos/couple-beach-holding-hands-677585/