This is the Summer.
Summer has (un)officially arrived to the United States and it sure feels like it. The heat is here, the mosquitoes are biting, the humidity is penetrating, and the garden is blooming.
Do you remember when you were a kid and summer held the promise of adventure, pleasure, and freedom?
My summers growing up revolved around running around barefoot and more than half naked, swimming in the pond on our farm, eating watermelon til my stomach sloshed and I was covered in sticky, pink, juice, camping by the river for a week at a time, summer camp and the excitement of making new friends, new crushes, new experiences, parties and outdoor concerts, roadtrips with family than friends once my sister started driving.
Summers hold the promise of a change of pace, a change of clothes, and a chance for discovery and adventure. Let’s not let go of that just because we’ve grown up.
This is the summer I will jump at every offer to ditch whatever it is I am doing and go swimming.
This is the summer I will sit in the shade, sip iced tea, and read in the middle of the day.
This is the summer I will run into the ocean at night, naked, laughing the whole time.
This is the summer I will lay out under the sky and count shooting stars until I can no longer keep my eyes open.
This is the summer I will perfect my spicy margarita-making skills.
This is the summer I will ride my bike so fast I feel like I’m flying.
This is the summer I will eat breakfast on the deck and dinner among the fireflies.
This is the summer I will make new friends and get closer to the ones I have.
This is the summer I will spend weeks eating produce from the garden, not the grocery store.
This is the summer I will wake up early to run and enjoy the solitude and freshness before starting my day.
This is the summer I will play make believe, weaving truth and fiction into my perfect reality.
This is the summer I will embrace the heat and humidity and sweat and sticky skin.
This is the summer I will meditate and take ice cold showers and sing loudly with the car windows down and savor that moment when day turns into night.
This is the summer I eat watermelon until my stomach sloshes and I am covered in sticky, pink juice.
This is the summer I develop a taste for pbr.
This, my friends, is summer.