The Ghost of Summers Past
I miss summers back home.
I didn’t know I did until this past weekend when I was home.
I was driving down the street, windows down and radio up. Driving fast and leaning back in my seat. As the warm air kept the hair from my face and the sun warmed my left arm resting on the window, I remembered spending my days like this. I remember just going to the grocery store in the middle of the day, driving down to Dairy Maid with my brother to get ice cream, just going for a drive because I could.
It was one of the major benefits of working in retail. Especially my summers at Dunkin Donuts. During my last summer spent at home, I had a great deal of morning shifts. This meant working 6-1. Getting up that early wasn’t my favorite thing in the whole world, but the shifts were usually busy so they went by fast. We’d make good tips and be out early enough to enjoy the rest of the day. I’d drive my friends home, only to pick up them up later when we had gotten as much of the burnt coffee smell out of our hair as we could.
I remember driving a lot. I remember dancing a lot. I remember laughing a lot.
I think this nostalgia is happening because the weather is getting nicer and I’m spending my days cooped up in an office. I spent last summer like this too, but still made the most of it, so I think it’s just because I haven’t gotten into the swing of this summer yet. The nice weather is still fresh and I have been too busy the past three weekends in a row to feel like I had a day off.
I still love summers. I just miss being able to spend a random weekday wandering around. To get in my car and drive just because I feel like it.
All I need is a Saturday with nice weather to turn up my radio and open my windows and sing and dance around my bedroom. To read a book in the park. To take lunch outside and soak up some sun.
I am, by the way, beyond excited that the apocalyptic weather seems to have taken a break to make room for a little sunshine. It makes the nostalgia more of a recalling of happy memories than an aching for the past.