We remember when summer meant something else than what it does now. Our minds recollect these things when we drive around these dark towns at night. All the old memories come back, seeping through us like the quick burn of alcohol. They hit us fast, only to disappear and fade out almost as quickly.
Summer was, to us, bright streetlights swaying in the wind. Green, red and yellow blurs lighting up the evening. They used to sparkle at midnight.
The low dip of the sun around 8:30, right when everything in town got that golden-color. We laid on our backs in someone’s driveway waiting for the stars to come out of hiding. Our skin glowed from the sun. From our tans. We always missed the shooting stars.
A red fleece blanket with a year etched on it. We carried it around so often that it could be seen as a security blanket. Maybe it was that for us, at one time. The last few threads of fabric we clung to in order to keep our memories all in tact.
The long stretch of a parking lot. Dripping, melty droplets of ice cream forming tiny puddles around our feet. Flip-flops. Barefeet.
Somebody’s bed, or couch, or carpet. A television with a DVD player and a scary movie playing on the screen. The want to be closer and the common sense to know that getting closer wouldn’t change things at all.
A tiny hope that stuck in the pit of our chests. That little glimmer we all felt before we went out for an evening…the endless possibility of what the night would maybe hold.
All of the maybes.
All of the what-ifs.
That moment we felt breathless when we found ourselves daring to believe that everything would work out in our favor. All of the secrets that lay deep down in our teenage hearts would come out…that things would go our way. That we would fall in love, fall in lust, get all our dreams to come true.
To us, summer meant music.
Driving around blaring Yellowcard, Greenday, Relient K, a song by Aerosmith, a song from the Eurotrip soundtrack. Throwing darts in a dingy basement and drinking Cokes cold from the fridge. Beer wasn’t on our radar then. Having minutes stretch by for miles and simultaneously feeling like minutes would tick off so fast that if we blinked, we’d miss them.
Bonfire. The smell of burning wood and roasting marshmallows. Sparks flying off into the night, from the fire, from each other, from anything and everything. A cul-de-sac deserted save for a few silhouttes and a liter bottle of Diet Coke. One pack of mentos. A bottle rocket explosion caught on a cell phone with commentary that most of us don’t remember now.
Amusement parks.
A sun-baked high school parking lot with the rhythm of a gock-block ringing in our ears long after practice was over for the day. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, flank left, flank right, turn, halt. Sweat. Horrible food, sometimes horrible living conditions. A week so hellish that it almost seemed worth it at the end because we loved the music. We loved the people. We loved it all even though we got made fun of for being in the band in the first place.
Random wonderings of who would lose their virginity first, back when all of us were still so innocent and uncomplicated. The bonds of friendship that seemed unbreakable and so easy. So simple. The summer.
And now…
Now we’re 9-5. Barely finding time to breathe, let alone have fun. Scattered friendships across the country. Grown up responsibilities for people still trying to hang on to any semblance of the childhood that is rapidly being left behind. Silence. Waiting. Waiting for something better. Anticipating something worse than what we ever could’ve imagined.
Meeting the real world…and wishing maybe it would stay away for a little longer.
Give us back our summer.
Give us back the freedom to be young, to be fun, to want to be in love, to not be jaded, to not know what we do now.
Give us back our dreams. Give us back our friends, our spontaneity.
None of us really want to grow up.
Recent Comments...