There is inevitably a point in the summer when you’ve had enough. It’s hot out, you haven’t had a vacation since December, and you miss home. That’s where I am. I miss the green grass of my backyard. I miss mosquito bites, lightning bugs, bonfires, lake water. The excitment of summer as a young lady. The drama. The feeling that nothing will be ok but that’s just fine with you.<\/p>\n
I remember summers when I took little ones to the lake, basked in the sunlight, reapplied sunscreen, and talked to the same boy every day that at the end of the summer would be a thousand miles away. Talked to girlfriends as if there was no tomorrow. Thought I really understood someone. Knew they felt the same. Wondered if they knew me. Wondered if I knew me.<\/p>\n
I remember summers when the backyard was miles wide, when sitting on the hammock was a private world away from watching eyes. When the pool was where everyone wanted to be. I remember summers when boys washed cars in the front, when 10 o’clock movies were the start of something, a long night out talking of souls, hearts, life.<\/p>\n
Does anyone remember those Ann Arbor walks that seemed to last days? It’s a pleasant reminder of my youth: Hand in hand, surrounded by people, utterly alone.<\/p>\n
I remember the summer of musical interludes on a playground in Jackson. Changing a word here, toying with a harmony, wondering which one of us thought the song was true. Or which one of us wanted it to be.<\/p>\n
I remember summers of Degrassi, and of bad TV until 3 am because we could. I remember slumber parties. I remember sleeping at Ren’s because I could. Glasses cases on nightstands, hair probably being dyed, one of us on IM.<\/p>\n
I remember ping pong in Kel’s basement. Looking at her closet in envy. The summer she scrapped her leg open. The summer we thought would change everything. How it didn’t change much.<\/p>\n
I remember GG marathons. 10 in a row. GOFGS. Nights spent counting Kixs, making sure I was making the right choice. Knowing I wasn’t.<\/p>\n
I remember you, saying it didn’t change a thing. That nothing was what it was after that. I remember hugs, kisses, cuddles, docks, and that smell. Of swampy mud covered shoes drying on the sun porch while we waited to be changed.<\/p>\n
Here I come, Michigan. Take me home awhile…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There is inevitably a point in the summer when you’ve had enough. It’s hot out, you haven’t had a vacation since December, and you miss home. That’s where I am. I miss the green grass of my backyard. I miss … Continue reading