They say “if you get 75 of them in a lifetime, you are a fortunate soul.” Summer is what mattered, what measured your lifespan.

Summer is being young, no matter what age you are.

Summer is how you calculate your life’s continuum as you toil, sweat and save all year for that season of bliss.

Blue skies smile at you, warm sun caresses you and soft breezes dance with the evening stars.

Summer is lounging in bed as long as you please, no fuss, no mess, no rush, no stress.

Summer is being young, carefree and happy. That was summer.

Except summer did not happen this year. We shake with fear as we wonder if it will ever happen again. Will June, July, and August spell rapture, ecstasy, and enchantment?

The hottest of seasons announced its presence by a searing heat wave, breaking records across the globe. Canada, Finland, and Moscow suffered extreme temperatures, which according to the World Meteorological Organisation posed a major threat to agriculture, environment, not to mention a danger to people’s health.

Our heart goes out to the athletes who participated in the Tokyo Olympic Summer Games. A humidity-drenched Tokyo made the experience sterile and joyless. No spectators, no roars of the crowds, no fans, no cheers, only fear of the guards lest they break the precautionary measures of keeping their distance, removing their masks, chatting, drinking, or even smiling.

This was the Olympic Games, the biggest sports event in the world. Thanks Covid.

Britain has had an exceptionally bad time as thousands of summer holidays were cancelled for fear of Covid-19. As many as half a million Brits were told to stay at home, in other words, in isolation, instead of romping by the sea-side, because the rates of a second Covid-19 infection had soared. It was more than torment in this heat when 4.5 million Brits had to self-isolate until 16 August.

Gone are the dreams of summer, travelling to a romantic resort, letting your hair down, wearing as little as possible or dancing in the moonlight with swaying palms surrounding you. A carefree summer of travel seemed a long way off.

Restrictions in many countries and airlines have made it almost prohibitive. Most resort hotels and restaurants are closed for the summer, the only season when they prosper and cover expenses for the rest of the year.

This second wave of coronavirus has bolted our summer, lock, stock and barrel.

Why a second wave? Was the first wave not enough for all humanity to bear? How can we, today, with all our advanced scientific, technological, medical, pharmaceutical knowledge allow thin infinitesimal, imperceptible, insignificant little microscopic, organism, be allowed to ravage lives across the globe? No matter what we do, it still comes out on top, more monstrous than the behemothic, colossal creatures which devour whole towns on your Netflix. When it showed up in 2020, experts wondered if there would be waves of cases, a pattern seen in other pandemics. Why wonder? The increase of cases of Covid-19 in the summer is predicted to surge in the fall. We are waiting for a miracle to happen with the vaccine. Not likely.

Infectious disease specialists at Johns Hopkins are blaming the surge on us, because we dared to breathe a little, chat a little, laugh a little. Relax your precautions and you are done.

What possible heavenly meaning could there be, with the great suffering this pandemic has caused? Now Delta is posing an additional threat even more deadly.

Our dreams have deflated like a big balloon once flying merrily way above the clouds, now reduced to a pile of rubble.

What to do? Vaccinated or not, the fear remains for us and our loved ones. Are we to face reality, or embrace the magic theory of distraction?

How do we expand on our experiences? How do we meet new people who can enrich our lives? How do we shake hands again?

We can forget reality. We can sit in a café, miles away from the next guy, masked and silent, and just watch other people’s goings and comings, imagining what their lives are like, hear the clatter of cups and saucers, watch the crowded streets and wonder how they’re coping.

The elderly have engaged in that activity after retirement. In fact we all do, especially when we can travel, sit at leisure by a restaurant or a coffee-house on the pavement and watch all those strangers going about their business.

It is a legitimate means of escape, experts admit, and it does distract you, at least for a while, from your own realities, too harsh to bear.

Watching children at play is a priceless source of joy, or lovers wooing or birds cooing, it is good therapy, illusions, distractions, imagination, so we can survive until the next day.

However, “something was taken from us that should not have been taken,” says Patrick Frazier, professor of psychology at the University of Minnesota. Truer words have never been uttered.

This “something” is intangible, so hard to explain, because it is an amalgamation of many little things piled together. This is our new reality, and we just hope our children are not suffering from it, yet.

Let children be children, carefree and gay, let them enjoy what is left of their holidays.

As for the rest of us, we still have our memories of summer.


“In a summer season, when softie was the sonne.”

 William England (c 1330-1400)

*A version of this article appears in print in the 19 August, 2021 edition of Al-Ahram Weekly

*A version of this article appears in print in the 19 August, 2021 edition of Al-Ahram Weekly