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The daybreak of the summer season happens the way all sunrises do. Irritatingly slow, and then, very much out of nowhere, there all at once.

It should be easier to notice, but alas, it is not. The temperatures soar ever-upward, and you think to yourself I guess I won’t need a jacket today. The sun begins to loiter in its skyline descent, and you move your succulents from the porch so they don’t fry in the light. The days on your calendar cross out—March, then April, then May—and you are aware of it only in the day by day passing.

You adjust, adjust, adjust.

Then, one morning, you wake up sweaty and annoyed, a sheet tangled around your calf and no clouds to filter the sun shining directly into your eyes, and that’s when it hits you.

It’s summer, and you’ve hit snooze on that insight for as long as you could.

Really, it was easier to be excited about summers when you were a child—when summer was marked by a schoolbag growing lighter and lighter on your shoulder, culminating in that one glorious day you didn’t need it at all. When it was waking up later than usual but still early by habit, just in time to catch the good cartoons. When it was you and your friends and a hose that was a hair away from causing serious internal damage by the sheer force of water pressure. When it was that wonderfully horrifying rush of hearing someone in the kitchen beginnings of their morning routine and thinking I need to go to sleep right now. When it was goodness come easy.

It is simple to wish that these things could be forever.

But nothing is ever really fair that way anymore.

You are older now, and you haven’t seen a schoolbag in years, you don’t recognise a single cartoon these days, you are wary of aggressive-hose-related injuries, and there’s no fun in reforming your sleep schedule to something unearthly if there is not even the slightest risk of consequence, and this is what you have to work with. Goodness, yes. But the kind that comes with effort.

Though, that is not necessarily a bad thing—joy that is earned.

Because that’s the best part of growing up: for all that you may have to leave behind, there will always be more waiting for you when you’re ready.

Whether it is to chase that fleeting childhood feeling, or to find something new in its place—at the Belize Collection, we know summer in her every form, and with our new, discounted summer rates, you can meet as it pleases you.

Find her out at the Rainforest Lodge at Sleeping Giant, where you brave rivers that truly make you reconsider whether the heat really is all that bad (it is) before you dive all in, chilled to the touch, but undeniably refreshed—an encumbered life relinquished to the current. Where you hike through green and mud, over bridges and through vines, for a glimpsed view of the world that cannot fix everything as much as it can change everything, a view that can teach you the difference if you only look close enough. Where you wake every morning to the hum and buzz of a land and a home, alive all around you—the breeze, the earth, the bird you cannot see, but whose song you can still hear (still feel).

Know summer like this—triumphant and burden-less. Easy, maybe not like it was before—maybe it will never be that way again—but still good. Still easy.

Or meet her at the Lodge at Jaguar Reef, in that youthful whim to throw yourself into the mercy of rushing waves—the sound of surging water, salt rich and metallic on your lips, an old forgotten memory come back to life. In a dance on scorching sands, the burn of your bare feet nothing compared to the unfettered joy of open sky above you and endless sea before you, shades of blue and blue and blue melting into each other. In the long shadows of the shore at night, when the sea retreats into darkness—the low rumble and fizzle of the surf the only indication of what lies beyond the gloom, an absent glint of silver caught out on the tide.

Know summer like this instead—a celebration of bliss, and a newfound love for the things we once let go. Somewhere to put the things we haven’t yet.

Summer lives between remembrance and obsoletion, a long-forgotten friend whose face you can no longer recall. At the Belize Collection, we invite you to reconcile the things you can never get back with the ones you’ve never had before.

Whether it is with your family, alongside your love, or simply for you, greet summer as someone grown and different, and know that some things may be as they always were, but others opt to change with us—unfamiliar, together. This summer, meet in the in-between of what was before and what is now, at the Belize Collection’s collection of resorts.

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