What is summer anyway? I don't necessarily need a definition from Webster. Maybe just a quick glance at my maps--Napa, Washington D.C, Greece, the World and so much more... Where to, Anne Taylor? My imagination is my taxi and summer is my driver. So maybe Summer has a foreign accent? Strange because I've been living this season for 20 years.
Maybe it's a season of goals, of tending to the land, of tending to the color of your skin. Staying alive via Salsa dancing and some cool Pico de Gallo. Going on holiday. Going for a run. Going home.
Time seems to pass by so quickly, and I have been brainstorming ways that I can preserve this holiday for as long as possible. Eliminate my addiction to productivity. Stop crossing off days on the calendar. I think I owe it to myself to let the days of June, July and August fly freely across the weeks of the calendar without having the chains of a line drawn sharply across the number. Squeak, a thick line of ink, bold and bloody. It screams out, "you're done! you're gone to the pages of history books!" I don't want my days to be so bound. I'd rather they dance all over my skin, bronzed or fair, either way.
And I doubt that I've begun to fade away (Anna), no. I am as vibrant as ever! That sweet smell of far-bloomed flowers wafting through the air, circling around me, spinning me to the setting sun, to the wide open spaces, to the open prairie and the scent of wine and barbecue. What a strange time in life, to break from incessant studies and bizarre adventures in college world to return home. I don't want to regain a sense of normality, of reality, of everyday ho-hum, hum-drum life. So much has changed, how would you ever expect this summer to be one of lounging and making my mother do my laundry, of sneaking alcohol into our bellies, fighting our age, sticking it to the man?
On the contrary, Niwot has become even more of a storybook to enjoy and to be fought. My insides groan and long for the taste of youth in my mouth. I am proud to be 19. My last year of being a teenager. I'll keep my last name for years and years. I won't ever marry till I've rid myself of the trashy addiction that is facebook. I'll see the sun from all angles, I'll feel it's warmth slide away from all corners of the earth, and I'll write about it all. I'll greet 20 with open arms, and 21 with thirst! What a laugh! 22, 23, 24, 25.. oh, who knows? Who wants to know?
This summer has such a theme. Don't let go of my youth, don't fade, don't tire... keep dreaming, keep sailing, keep my eyes wandering across the map in search of a new destination.
What a time to shine!
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