He leaned with his arms crossed and his chin in his hands over the railing. A long hollow hisssssssssssssssssssss was followed by a short sputter of a pause and then a rush of water as the sprinkler tech cleared the lines for fall…fall.
Is it really the end of the dream we call summer?
Late nights and sleepy mornings. How many times did we wake up this summer with all four of us head to toe in the big bed after tired little footsteps made their way down the hall to our room?
How many mornings has my wife left for work without a sound?
How many times have we gone to the pool since my son discovered the world of goggles and jumping in?
Smiles, and lakes, and bikes, and tiny blue wheels spinning beneath my feet, beneath the stolen dreams, the concrete surf, listening to the Peaches song on the long skate to work.
There are six days left and I miss them already.