The Last Days of Summer

Every year it seems like two months isn't long enough.

You set your backpack to the side, and don't spare it another thought until it's necessary.

Ads starts appearing on TV screens, on Facebook, on the radio, and you instantly want to shut the idea out of your brain.

But you live for the rush.

You live for the watermelon stains on your white t-shirt to remind you of the farmer's market,

Waiting in line for lunch at a farmer's market lunch,

Chugging water bottles just to function,

Pouring rain in the middle of the day while the sun still shines,

Moments where you can sit with your back to tree and gaze out and see,

Ascending skyscrapers that seem to meet with the clear blue sky as if there's no distinct end to either.

You live for Lay's chips, Lofthouse sugar cookies, and hot dogs on floral paper plates,

Every corner, couch, and table occupied by the faces of those you've surrounded yourself with all summer,

Relentless waves of heat paired with a couple gusts of wind to come as relief,

Cornhole games, footballs being tossed around,

Garden hoses filling kiddie pools with water,

Bubbles foaming from the tarps for slip 'n' slides,

The grass stains that cover your body from slip n' slide kickball,

Lawn chairs filled with teens taking selfies, and game-watchers,

Solo cups and standing parents in semi-circles making small talk,

Water balloons dispersed with shocked expressions and laughter all around,

Running, lots of running,

The sun always setting in its perfect sort of way- shades of pink, orange, and yellow peeking through the clouds,

And tired legs that carry you home through the pitch black darkness, with the laughter from the previous conversations kept in your mind until you fall fast asleep.

Then you look at the calendar,

It reads one more week 'till you walk through the doors of high school for one last "first day",

The summer works still sits piled next to your laptop,

Your to-do list is growing,

And your mind is aching,

Until another day comes where you find yourself spontaneously at Sonic on a Sunday morning.

You live for that.