What is it about summer nights that makes us so wistful?
I just read this amazing post by Veronica. Check it out, you'll love it.
I was transported to my own visceral memories of summer.
Riding my silver 10 speed with the breeze whistling in my ears, buying a bag of penny candies from Mr. Montrose's corner store, kissing the next door neighbour while we huddled together during hide and seek, running through the sprinkler in my yellow bikini, reading underneath the willow tree, playing baseball at the schoolyard.
It was the glorious freedom of summer that made those memories so tangible. The excitement and thrill of possibility. So many options, all my own, time had no relevance. No-one was watching, not even me.
I felt more wild, beautiful, wise without the stricture of responsibility and expectation.
It's not the same as an adult. Nothing beats the summers of childhood. I didn't know there were restrictions. That some choices beget other choices. That some roads can't be found if they're not taken the first time.
But just walking outside and inhaling deeply the smell of the summer night is good.
I can remember the open road, the endless day.