Come back...

I know you'll be here soon, but lately I've been thinking a lot about you.

Remember when you'd kiss my cheeks, leaving them rouge and shiny from my lotion? Hints of your presence left on my shoulders and nose if I wasn't careful.

I think of this one particular day in Oaxaca, Mexico. 2004. Grains of sand stuck on me, slowly becoming mush when the pacific water escaped my hair and explored my body. I had never in my life experienced such violent waves that left me trembling from the fear and excitement of a magnet-like force, embracing my ankles and pulling me farther away. I fought you. I let your force take hold, but robbed your calm moments. Those moments when you held your breath, I did the same and plunged into your arms. You wanted to keep me there, embrace me. I left you, but your sound never left me. In my bed at night, I would hear your whispers, the crashes and the fights of your waves. You were only 60 feet away. Your sound was bliss. Sound that was not produced by radio waves, but by your actual force, right outside our hut.

You are in the plastic smell of my SPF.

You are in the salty water that stings my eyes.

You are in the intoxicating smell of burned charcoal.

You are in the burning cement under my blistered, bare feet.

...

You are even in flakes of snow that are colored like the rainbow.












In every cold and hot glory, Summer -- you are missed.



And I sit here. Waiting for you.