the summer sun

It’s not summer yet, it’s only spring. It isn’t summer until the 21st of June. I’m reminding you, just as I remind myself each morning, when I wake up to the summer sun that’s lighting my bedroom and my heart. The summer sun is shining, but still, it’s only spring.

“I’m having the worst day ever. Can’t you tell me something good?”

“I love you”

“Something good that I don’t already know, would be nice.”

“2010”

“What are you talking about?”

“2010, I’ll propose in 2010.”

“Really?? Wait, if you propose on Decemeber 31st, 2010, I’ll kill you!”

“2010, and it’ll be hot out. Now stop talking about it.”

“Summer 2010, really?? Please tell me more….”

That’s the last thing he’s said about it. And trust me, much poking and prodding has gone on! It was twenty degrees outside, just a couple days ago, and I slipped a casual, “It’s pretty hot out, does that mean you’re proposing soon?” into the conversation. It was met only by, “This isn’t hot, this is only warm.” This is his way of saying “shut up already!” and I get it, I really do. I’m not trying to pressure even though I know I am. K assures me that, while very annoying, I’m not doing any harm in asking. He understands why I talk about it when most women would just hush hush about it to their girlfriends. I have to wait.

I have to wait until 2nd year nursing to have a rotation in the labour & delivery ward. I have to wait until 3rd year to give needles and administer IV meds. I have to wait until 4th year, three more years, to graduate. I can’t be a nurse until I pass my RN exam.  I can’t get married until I’m a nurse. I can’t have kids until I’m married. And it goes on.

Wait.

I am impatient. My boss has told me that, on more than one occasion. (I knock more than once without waiting the courtesy 5 seconds!) Am I impatient to a fault? My wedding is a looooooong way off, and I have plenty of living to do before the day arrives. So what’s wrong with wanting to be able to look at my left ring finger and see a little diamond assurance? A little ring that says, “Be patient, your day is coming.”? I suppose there isn’t anything wrong with it, but I should stop bugging K about it, eh? The bridal magazine in the living room probably says enough. ;)

Tomorrow it’s supposed to get up to 30 degrees. On Monday, 32. When the sun shines through my bedroom window, I’ll make the same wish I always make, and then remind myself that it’s not summer yet. Not until June 21st.

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