Last Day of Summer

Technically, today is the last day of summer, the equinox being tomorrow and all. However, yesterday was my last day of summer. Classes began today. More on that later.

Late in the afternoon I decided that the last day of summer should, in some way, be commemorated. It was easy enough to decide on how this might be done.

This summer I spent the majority of time in Irvine, working near anonymously from my apartment, trying my best to reconcile the numerous changes taking place in my life. When work was done and my apartment became too suffocatingly hot, I would walk around the surrounding neighborhoods to cool my head.

Yesterday it seemed approapriate that I do the same and I set off toward the peak of the housing develipment directly west of my apartment. The development is called University Hills and is properly equiped with well lighted walk ways, playgrounds, dog parks, people parks and all the amenities you would expect from the ideal Orange County development.

University Hills, unfamiliar as it is with crime, petty theft and the like, has at least two grassy knolls equipped with two Adirondack Chairs. One I discovered on a previous suburban hike and the other I discovered last night. I can only assume the existence of others. It was the former I set out to find with the thought that I might sit upon that suburban throne, gaze into the oblivion of Orange County and  sort through the different pieces of my life.

However, as Tolkein would have it, it is a dangerous thing stepping out one's front door. I ended up talking to Eric Conwell, about change, relationships, developments, career growth and the difficulties of being part of the elite (iPad owners). Before I knew it I was at my destination and had yet to figure anything out.

As I sat there and watched dusk creep over the eastern horizon, a three-legged dog hopped up to me. "Don't worry she is a friendly three-legged dog." The woman was middle-aged and very kind. Apparently, I was in the dog's spot. They came there every evening.

The dog's name was Gracie and she lost her leg last May. Cancer. She was going through Chemo at the moment in the form of two pills twice a day. She was ten years old, a black lab, and the woman had got her as a puppy. All things considered, Gracie was doing pretty well and managed her handicap rather - this is terrible, but I can't think of another word - gracefully.

The conversation was wrapping up and I was struggling with what parting phrase I should use. "Nice to meet you" was wrong. We never introduced ourselves. "See you later" was inappropriate. Then, as I reached for a third possibility the woman said "Come on, Gracie," and to me, "Good evening." And it was.