I’ve always liked the name Summer. Summers usually have the brightest smiles, the blonde hair, and the jovial personalities. But no, that’s not what Summer Chaser means. At least, it’s not what it’s all about.

I was pretty much born and raised in the tropics, right above the equator. Being in the sweltering, humid heat has always felt like home.

Then one day, my family had up and moved halfway across the world with me in tow. I found myself in the dead of winter, of all places, in Michigan. I had never seen snow up to that point in my life, so I ran outside jumping and playing and after about five minutes, I realized that snow was freakin’ cold. And that grew old REALLY quick!

Every autumn and winter thereafter was a horrid experience. What most of my friends here never really understood was that all the snow, cold weather, wind chill and freezing rains had a sedating, narcotic effect on me. I always get sluggish. Depressed. I would want nothing more than to just curl up and fall asleep.

Every winter I swear to myself that it would be my last winter. That I would travel the world and live where ever it was summer. Think about it; if animals, more rudimentary creatures than ourselves, have enough sense to hibernate or to “head south for the winter” is it so unnatural for us to have the same instincts? Thus, here we find ourselves.

I remember, somebody I really look up to once said “It doesn’t rain all the time, everywhere. The sun is always shining at some part of the world.”

I intend to be right there, where the sun is shining the brightest.