The Sun Always Rises, But I Miss the Lights

Most people in my life know that I loathe, despise, and detest any time where the sun hits my back and strips me of any energy I had.

The feeling of a hot laser piercing my skin. The sudden sensation of sweat trickling out of every crevice on my body. Not being able to wear stylish clothes that are not just a set of shirt and shorts.

These are the things I hate about the heat on a surface level. These are the common assumptions people make about why I do not view the sun as a time for vacations and happiness. I associated heat with the place that had taken me away from what I knew. Dramatic, right? I will try my best to explain, but please bear with me.

Like many people in California, I was not born here. I was not born in another country or continent, trust me that would be way cooler. I was born on the East Side of New York. A city that reaches 20 degrees fahrenheit on a good day. A city where I ran along the streets without the worry of my grades or expectations. A city where I lived the best moments of my life. It is not a lie when people say it is the city of dreams. It truly is. It is a place inconceivable to a person that has never been. It is where my parents dreamed of living while they were in South America.

If my friends are reading this, they have probably stopped because they know my love for New York. Only 8 years of my life, but I am grateful for every time I almost got frostbite and every snowball thrown at my face. But I was not some random 8 year old that just decided to not even entertain the idea of liking the summer. My realization of this hatred for heat began in middle school. I had finally gotten accustomed to the heat in California and was able to go throughout my days without feeling like I was dying of heat stroke. The sun was at its height during PE and our coach had chosen kickball as our “Game of The Day”. I loved kickball. Past tense after this day.

Coach was demonstrating how to play, as if we were new to this as sixth graders. He went up to kick the ball seemingly in slow motion. The sweat trickled down his face and left stains on his back. I mean, that was fair due to the 90 degree weather, but wow! He sweat a lot. The moment that changed my mind forever is when he came next to me and put his hand on my shoulder and said, “It’s so hot, am I right?” I almost hurled at the smell his body was emitting.

After my smelly encounter with the coach, my friend asked me, “Do you like the winter or the summer?” A basic question. One that can be answered with one word or at most two. I quickly responded, “Winter.” and to my surprise she asked, “Why?” Again, we have all been asked this question at least a couple times. Ice breakers, orientation, etc. The one thing that seemed different with my response is that I think I could write about it forever. Hence, what I am doing right now.