s u m m e r

– s u m m e r –

The concrete beneath my feet is rough and scalding. I gasp and lift my toes so that I’m now awkwardly walking on my heels. The wind tugs on the loose strips of my hair, the sun kisses my nose and thaws my fingers. I silently wish I’d brought my flip flops outside with me.

Our giant yard has been invaded by hundreds of yellow dandelions. They make me smile even though I know they’re only weeds. It seems to me they scream summer louder than anything else. Especially when they’ve become white and fluffy. Then, they’re perfect for blowing apart, into the wind. I’ve always loved that.

I tilt my head to the sky, just to stare at the endless blue. They always say Kansas’ flat lands aren’t worth seeing, but have they ever seen the sky here? We’ve more than anyone else, and that’s more than enough to make up for having no mountains. At night, most of all. Everywhere you look, there’s pitch darkness that glitters with more stars than I bet most know exist. Millions and billions and trillions of stars that shine like the world was created just for them. And maybe it was.

But now, the sun shines directly above me. The smile from the dandelions only spreads wider across my face. I catch sight of a few scattered pieces of chalk. Kneeling, I color the sidewalk a bright yellow, in no particular shape. The dust coats my fingers, and I try wiping them off on the concrete a few times before giving up and just running my hands down my skirt pockets.

I look up as my sibling asks if I want the popsicle she’s offering. I accept it, instantly feeling the cold seep into my fingers. She gave me blue, because we all know that’s the best kind. When it’s gone, I suck the leftover juice from the plastic sleeve.

My arms start to tingle, and I remember the unused sunscreen I left on the counter. I don’t go in and get it though. So later, I bear the consequences and have to use lukewarm water in my shower because of the needle-like stinging on my arms, face, and legs. But I don’t regret it.

Once I’ve showered and am wrapped in a blanket, I come upstairs. My family’s crowded around the glass sliding doors. I know without asking they’re watching the sun set. Sure enough, the sky’s been completely colored in brilliant reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They smear across the horizon, shifting by the minute. It leaves us with open mouths and repetitive gasps, even though we see it every night.

Just as the sun finally slips behind the earth, flashes of light pop up all over the yard. Innumerable fireflies dance atop the tall grass. It sparkles like a fairytale, and I wish they’d show up as pretty on camera. But they don’t. Because summer isn’t something you can capture in a single photo, or even hundreds. It’s something that can only be felt. Something you inhale as deeply as you can, because it doesn’t last forever. But the memories? They will.


8 thoughts on “s u m m e r

  1. aah! i absolutely loved this. you are a very talented writer. now i want to go and grab a piece of yellow chalk and draw random shapes and doodles. i enjoy your sporadic posts;) love you, sis! p.s. sorry, i am a little late in commenting.


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