Summer days at the beach. Instant friends made. Waves fought. Sand kingdoms built and destroyed. My boys running, screaming joyfully under the sun and in the wind and not needing much redirection or re-calibration. much...
Summer days living the mundane life somewhere else: making meals, setting tables, clearing and cleaning dishes, laundry, bathing... But the mundane has a layer to it, one of freshness like mint in an iced drink because it's being tasted somewhere new. Different settings and cherished characters in the story. Loved ones, grandparents, stop in the middle of washing that dish to tell stories of days past and people still remembered alive or gone, here or there.
Summer days. We ache for them in the middle of the polar vortex. We think about them when warmth comes only out of heat vents. We dream about them during the daily grind that the other seasons seem to demand. And they come, they are here, and then they go again, our year pivoting on these moments in which we can slow down and think, and talk and recall.
Summer days stretch yourself. Summer days stay here forever. Or even if not, summer days remain in me until next time.
