Slice of summer
Autumn makes me think. Spring makes me feel. Winter makes me numb. Summer makes me…me.
Summer smells like cut grass at sundown. It looks like a teenage girl’s windblown sundress. It feels like sweat on the back of my neck. It sounds like the Beach Boys in a box-fan cooled room.
Summer is my childhood and it tastes like watermelon.
Today was a baseball game with the family, followed by two pounds of shrimp from Fresh Market, and a big watermelon before bed time. The boy begged for it and, despite the lateness of the hour, I obliged. I cut a slice for myself and felt the juice run down my face.
I was eight years old on my grandma’s back porch. It was five minutes of innocence for a thirty-something guy far removed from such carefree times.
There are more reasons than I will list to enjoy being a parent. The most selfish?
It lets me be a kid again.