“And nothing, from the first moment he saw her, and no one had happened to him since had ever been as frightening and as confusing or could have done more to make him feel more sure, more insecure, more important, and less significant.”
Okay, I cheated a little. This passage is not the first sentence from my favourite book Summer of ’42 by Herman Raucher but few pages further down. I have a valid excuse for it. This particular part is the one that speaks to me the most and in my point of view the most memorable. It tells the essence of the story and gives the reader insight to the character of the protagonist and how deep he was involved.
But that was not the only reason why I have chosen this particular paragraph. To say that I can relate with the story is an understatement. The truth is I have lived it for quite sometimes, seven years to be exact. My ex used to call me Miss Summer of’42. I wonder if there is an equivalent of that when it comes to him. I dare not to mention the possibilities here. It is enough to say that everything I know, I learned from him.
I am not proud of what I have done. No reasons are good enough to excuse my behavior that time. I can say that I was looking for my rainbow connection or just exercising revenge, that what is good for the goose is good for the gander, it was just all circumstantial and coincidences and I was not really looking for it, that I was at the right place at the right time, etc. But like I said, no excuses are good enough to justify my wrong doings.
Some of my adventures I have posted here already. And here, and here. I’m always careful to omit the incriminating details out of respect to some people but I know that readers can read between the lines. Am I ashamed of it? The truthful answer is no. I am who I am and for what it is worth, there are no family tragedies I cause or any third party that got hurt because of my escapades. I have also my standard and preferences, and they are unusually high believe it or not.
Do I have regrets? Just one. The one time I decided to ignore my instinct and just go for it. Of all my mistakes, that is the most grandiose. Especially when I knew from the start that I alone would suffer for it; I went headlong for disaster anyway. What an idiot I was. To think that it was not even worth the trouble. But yeah… we all have those.
Honestly, I cherish the memories. I appreciate the importance of it in my life. Without them I don’t know where I am now, probably either in prison or in the funny farm. Those adventures helped me to cope, to get through the rough patches, to stay sane and ironically enough, to keep my dignity and self-worth. Yes, those countless Summer of ‘42s were my saving grace…