I’ve decided to start an ongoing story I add to for your personal enjoyment. The full story can be read here, but remember, it’s a work in progress! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy.
There’s something about summer. Maybe it’s the way the sun casts shadows on the grass as the evening draws near, or how the world echoes with a sort of laughter that is embedded in your mind forever and ever. For me, it’s the memories of all the good times. When everything was simpler. The way I remember it, last summer was perfect. Or almost perfect.
I woke up early on a Saturday (or was it a Saturday? Everyday feels like Saturday in summer), to the sound of pancakes sizzling on a hot pan. I walked to my closet and found some old jean shorts and a T-shirt with a giant anchor emblem on it.
“Good morning, sweetie.” My mom’s head popped into my room as I slid on some green socks.
“Mornin’, Mom.” I grabbed the hairbrush off my dresser and swept my shoulder-length hair into a messy ponytail. “Have you seen my sunglasses?”
“Downstairs,” she said with a chuckle, “where you always leave them. Where are you going today?”
“Duckie and I are going to ride our bikes to the park. Then he’ll play basketball, and I’ll drink a smoothie and dance to my summer playlist.”
“Like usual? Home before dinner?”
“Like usual, agreed.” I nodded and gave my mom a firm handshake.
And with that, I was out the door, already playing my summer playlist on my mini speaker. I grabbed my bike from the garage, threw the speaker and a bag of pancakes in the basket, and pedaled, as fast as I could, to Duckie’s house.
Duckie is not a duck. He’s my best friend, and his real name is Levi. But when he was little, when we met, he was carrying this stuffed duck, and when I asked him what his name was, he got confused and confidently shrieked, “Duckie!” I still call him that. Or, I did, that summer.
The wind whipped my hair into my eyes as I pedaled. When I reached Duckie’s street, he was already on his bike, circling around the cul-de-sac, attempting to do some sort of trick.
“Took you long enough,” he said when I reached him.
“Hey, I wasn’t that late.”
“It’s all about punctuality,” he said.
I snorted. “Yeah, sure.”
Duckie grinned and rang the bell on his bike.
We rode on the sidewalk the three blocks to the park, talking about our plans for the summer. My mini-speaker played joyful tunes, and Duckie sang along. This was it. Everything was perfect.
Every time I relive that memory in my mind, I struggle to recall exactly what we talked about, or what music was playing, or the names of the streets we rode down. All I remember is the feeling of the warm sun on my back, and the smell of fresh cut grass, and the light breeze rustling in the trees. This summer isn’t like that. Everything’s different now. And I don’t know if I’m ever going to have another perfect summer.
I hope you enjoyed the first part of the story! There is more to come! I would love any reader input you have. Please comment below!