Yesterday, June 21, was the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year. The English teacher in me can’t help but think about Daisy’s comment in Chapter 1 of The Great Gatsby; she says, “Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.” Since I like to think that I am not as vapid as Daisy pretends to be, I like to watch for the longest day of the year and celebrate it. The beginning of summer, a moment when life and freedom and love seem ripe and full of possibilities. A day to soak in the sunshine and set off on a summer adventure of some sort – physical, mental, spiritual – doesn’t really matter, just a moment to look forward in expectation.

But then, yesterday was cloudy here in Gaffney. Rainy at times, and we didn’t see the sun much at all. In fact, this spring has been especially rainy. Usually by this time of the year, we are suffering in humid heat with no relief from rain, and we are already spacing out the lawn mowing because no grass is growing with no water. Not this year. We have had to cut the grass as soon as we get a sunny day because the rain has been steady enough to keep our yard lush and vibrant with 50 shades of green. I am so grateful for the rain, but what happened to my longest day of sun? A day where I could sit outside in the evening until 9:30 or later, enjoying the pink and orange sunset? None of that – just gray. And today will be a couple of minutes shorter, a minute less of available sunshine.

One day of peak sunshine, and then each day a few seconds less as we move toward the shortest day of the year in December. One day, one evening, one sunset, and then it changes again. Like a giant, slow see-saw where we hit the top and make our way back down again, only to see the top again next year. And our tip-top moment this year was cloudy, and now we are headed back down, moving toward the shortest day, where darkness prevails. And there is nothing we can do to stop it. As Tracy Lawrence sings, “time marches on.” Yesterday is gone, and whether there was sunshine or not, whether it felt like the longest day or not, whether I watched the sunset or felt the warm summer rain, I won’t get that moment back.

Did I make the longest day of the year memorable, or like Daisy, did I miss it? Did I miss it because I wrapped the day in expectations of what it was supposed to look like? Did I miss it because I waited for that one moment with expectation and preconceived ideas of what the longest day was supposed to look like, and now I have to wait an entire year to see if it looks as I want it to look next year? Maybe I can pretend today is yesterday, since the daylight lasts only a few seconds shorter than yesterday, and recreate the moment that has passed. Maybe I can think back to summers past and relive those perfect summer solstices as I sit inside and watch the rain.

Or maybe, I should have just walked in the rain anyway.

“I love this crazy, tragic,
Sometimes almost magic,
Awful, beautiful life”
– Darryl Worley