I’d entirely forgotten these things.
Hammocks. Popsicle-sticky wrists. Sun hats and the red, sweaty band across your forehead, later.
Watermelon. Lemonade with crushed ice. Nothing but cheese and crackers for dinner.
Grasshopper chirring and the hiss of a breeze in high branches, teasing. Somnolent wind chimes in the neighbor’s yard.
The smell of wet pavement in the sun. The rippled edge of book pages turned by soggy fingertips.
Struggling and twisting into damp swimsuit straps. Cherry pits in the grass.
Singing into the electric fan – every word vibrato (Mister Roboto).
Flipping the pillow to the cool side. Again. Citronella candles. Night noises through window screens.
It’s been a long time since I stepped both feet into summer. So glad to be here.