Inspired by Mama Kat’s #3 prompt: List 6 things you are going to miss about summer. Am I in a poem phase? xoxoI poured you on my pancakes this morning The syrup took hours to drip, slow as molasses That’s part of your allure, Summer How you slow churn Time like buttermilk batter I love how easy your late nights crawl out of slumber Soothing me like a meditative drummer The stroke of midnight dances off the fireflies As I stay awake full of your surprise The icing of your season is the lazy, idle tempo The slurring crescendo Sloth like and moth full Even insects move to the beat of your purr Oh Summer, if I boiled you down to one word I’d have to pick simple It’s written on the cut of my shorts, the grass stained t-shirt Your flowers lace my hair with elementary opium I’m addicted to your silly conundrums Your colors are blissful A chromatic pistol I’m caught up in your vibrant missile Of picturesque sunset litter A few birds chirping. Kids laughter. I fall in love with your constant chatter How the sounds of your existence caress me with murmurs that these are the times to remember Hey, Summer. I would call you, but I forgot your number You’re breaking up in the back to school mumbles Is this all I get until the fall of September? When I will be missing all of you and more
Hi friends! I’ve been busy lately! Therefore, writing time dwindled to a minimum. I tried to bribe Kina to write for you. She pondered it for a second before sticking her tongue out and chasing after a ball at the dog park, leaving me in a cloud of dust. I took that as a no?
Anyways, I don’t have much original stuff for you today. Instead, I dug up one of my favorite posts in the archives for participation in Mama Kat’s prompt #1 this week: A quote from someone that has stuck with you. The quote from my mom towards the end of this post is something that has stuck with me for many years. In fact, it’s probably exactly what I needed to hear right now!
Here’s to making the most of every year of our lives. :)
Originally posted: March 7, 2013
“I took her out. It was a Friday night. I walk alone to get the feeling right…”
Blink-182 blared from the TV as Carson Daly flashed his pearly whites on Total Request Live. My shoulder slung forward from the heavy weight of my one-strapped book bag. The one strap was all the rage those days.
It was my lucky day. My recently licensed 16 year-old friend graciously (I think I pretty much begged him?) gave me a ride home from school, which cut my commute into 1/4 of its normal hour-long walking time. Trust me; I quietly cursed my parents’ purchase of a home on the northwest corner of town during each post-school walk.
I pushed the button to boot up our 95 windows PC and dial-up into the internet (does that even make sense?) as I ran downstairs for my after school snack. Coca Cola on ice and a granola bar graced my presence as “You’ve got mail!” welcomed me home. It was an exciting time in my life. My friends and I just broke into the senior boys’ circle of parties and things we shouldn’t have and older problems and drama. Plus, the homecoming dance was coming up so there was a lot of AOL instant messenger gossip to catch up on that afternoon.
“Nobody likes you when you’re 23…” Blink was still singing.
Ugh; “23 is so old,” I thought to myself.
Spotify country music softly sang into my headphones while I typed on my Windows 7 work laptop. I unbuttoned my tightly clasped suit jacket. I needed some breathing room to crunch the project rates. Thank god, I hit the sack at 21:00 last night and boosted up on two cups of joe that morning otherwise I would be dragging.
The proposal was due in 4 short hours I frantically reminded myself as my phone buzzed next to me. “Insert my sister’s name just posted on your wall” shortly followed by a tweet to @crossroadsheart. Was it not enough to use only one form of social media at a time? A couple of weeks ago, I felt embarrassed to google YOLO and don’t even remind me of my confusion when people posted “I love fun!” Well, yes, I love fun too… but I didn’t realize we were talking about a band.
I’m reminded of a quote from my childhood past. “They say I’m old-fashioned, and live in the past, but sometimes I think progress progresses too fast!” Dr. Suess, I think you had it right; my friend.
What’s my age again?
I’m 20 years old in the only real red sports car my dad ever owned. It’s just months before my brother would wreck it for its second time. Yes, I’ll take the blame as the first perpetrator.
I passed the West End of my hometown where literally there is a bar and church on every corner. Girls – just mere months older than I – lined up at bars’ front doors in their new high heels and cross-shouldered bags. A legit ID carefully tucked into wallet pockets. They seemed so cool.
I remembered just days ago my mother saying “you should celebrate every year of your life.” But that didn’t really comfort a non-bar-tending, too-old for Friday night opening flick, too young for 10pm bedtime, don’t know what to do with my 20-year-old self.
To say the least… her advice didn’t really stick.
What’s my age again?