(no subject)
when i was putting together my english portfolio today, this caught me completely off guard.
It was mid-July then, the whole summer lying ahead of us with its endless possibilities. We were falling into our already familiar routines and traditions, though they were still so new. We felt consistently infinite, in every day, hour, and second of that summer. So much good had already come to all of us, just by our meeting, and we felt blessed and were aware of this blessing in that small corner of our minds that was usually overshadowed by the more obvious feelings of contentment, youth, and simple happiness.
Looking back on it now, I can still smell that scent that can only be accurately described as summer, for lack of a definite word. That strange, new scent at the end of May that grows stronger, but somehow less noticeable towards the depth of summer. It was strengthened and mixed with the smell of the sun baking the dandelions, the overly-chlorined pools, and the warm lotions on our skin. They grew to slowly surround us, all of these summer feelings, from the almost unnoticeable scent to the feel of the sun on our shoulders.
We didn’t just have the cliché feelings in our summer. We had more than that. I can still feel the rush of warm air beneath my legs as we lived on that rusty swingset in the wooded area of that park. Ironically, I had never gone there when I was young, but we had somehow been attracted to it then, to the thick trees, endless trails, and those swings that we would soon claim as our own.
As I look back, I don’t only see it, but I hear it: from the first “hello’s” to the clumsy, sad “goodbye’s”. But mainly, it’s the laughter. The laughter filled our days and nights back then, and it was what bonded all of us in the first place. Acoustic guitar singalongs in the backseats of packed cars and the living rooms of houses flood my memories, and I feel the old smiles come back.
I still taste it, too. There was that small, undiscovered ice cream shop at the beach that we frequented every day. We fell in love with the cookie dough sundaes and pop in glass bottles. We survived off of typical summer food, though we barely had time to be hungry at all.
I see that summer every day now, in the constant slideshow of memories in my head. I see that swingset, that beach, those people. I feel it in every part of my life, and I’m thankful for the remembrance.
It was mid-July then, the whole summer lying ahead of us with its endless possibilities. We were falling into our already familiar routines and traditions, though they were still so new. We felt consistently infinite, in every day, hour, and second of that summer. So much good had already come to all of us, just by our meeting, and we felt blessed and were aware of this blessing in that small corner of our minds that was usually overshadowed by the more obvious feelings of contentment, youth, and simple happiness.
Looking back on it now, I can still smell that scent that can only be accurately described as summer, for lack of a definite word. That strange, new scent at the end of May that grows stronger, but somehow less noticeable towards the depth of summer. It was strengthened and mixed with the smell of the sun baking the dandelions, the overly-chlorined pools, and the warm lotions on our skin. They grew to slowly surround us, all of these summer feelings, from the almost unnoticeable scent to the feel of the sun on our shoulders.
We didn’t just have the cliché feelings in our summer. We had more than that. I can still feel the rush of warm air beneath my legs as we lived on that rusty swingset in the wooded area of that park. Ironically, I had never gone there when I was young, but we had somehow been attracted to it then, to the thick trees, endless trails, and those swings that we would soon claim as our own.
As I look back, I don’t only see it, but I hear it: from the first “hello’s” to the clumsy, sad “goodbye’s”. But mainly, it’s the laughter. The laughter filled our days and nights back then, and it was what bonded all of us in the first place. Acoustic guitar singalongs in the backseats of packed cars and the living rooms of houses flood my memories, and I feel the old smiles come back.
I still taste it, too. There was that small, undiscovered ice cream shop at the beach that we frequented every day. We fell in love with the cookie dough sundaes and pop in glass bottles. We survived off of typical summer food, though we barely had time to be hungry at all.
I see that summer every day now, in the constant slideshow of memories in my head. I see that swingset, that beach, those people. I feel it in every part of my life, and I’m thankful for the remembrance.