I know you're thinking about leaving me—maybe not now, or next week, but soon—and I'm writing to beg you to stay. It's true that I've been busy with work, and we haven't had much time for our favorite things, like swimming and biking and walking to the creemee stand. But I swear I don't take you for granted, and I would never be unfaithful. I have not looked twice at the cooler, almost autumnal days that have passed through lately, no matter how beautiful they were. I don't want Fall, Summer, I want you. Don't you get it? We belong together. I love everything about you: your long, light-filled days and dreamily warm nights; your lush green fields and trees; the abundance you bring of flowers and fruits and fireflies; the way you throw your arm around my shoulders to keep me warm; how well you feed me. I even love your afternoon thunderstorms and heat waves; your mosquito bites and bee stings. While I can barely stand the tourists with whom I share you, if a state full of French Canadians and flatlanders is the price of keeping you around, I'll pay it with a smile (or maybe a long lean on the horn—seriously, people, where did you learn how to drive?). Please, Summer, don't go.