my life has been boring, really - just any of my friends. but sometimes boring is good, it just leaves you nothing to write about.
summer always makes me think of warm water from the hosepipe just before get sprayed by your friends, long bicycle trips to the Y, ghost stories, watermelon, cousins, squeezing lemons on my hair, coppertone, rubber flip-flops in red, running home to be in by dark, plums, swimming in the lake, my birthday, burgers on the grill, potato chips, attic fans, best friends, the glowing grave, suicide specials at the ball park, first kisses, giant sweet tarts that blistered your tongue and pixie sticks.
now I slather on creams to prevent sun, use expensive cream rinse, drive too much and talk to my friends too little. the water is from a brita filter, my flip flops cost too much, the baseball no longer interests me (except for a live game), the glowing grave is not as appealing without the sweet smell of honeysuckle and a boy to kiss, and it's too hot to stay outside.
summer is when I first fell in love. summer is when I sat on the stoop with a boyfriend because I couldn't date until I was 16 (I finally broke their resistance at 15). summer is long fine hair with hot wind blowing through and shorts that stick to the back of your legs from the vinyl seats. summer is visiting my aunt louise and my cousin patty. summer is the time of illicit romances away from home as my cousin was a bad influence - kissing boys as we parked at Dothan High School and drinking cheap wine until our heads spun. summer is my uncle calvin boiling peanuts as he sat drink his bud with piles of salt on the rim. summer is laying at the foot of the bed with the windows cracked and listening to the attic fan as it pulls a breeze to cool you. summer is the smell of ozone if you could convince your parents to turn on the window unit.