They were our days, as much as they could be...that last adrenaline before the weekend. We left Fridays flushed and slightly sweating...like after a day at the beach in high summer.
Summer embodies us...the soaking of the sun, the humidity of our days...the sometimes storms that inevitably happen. We are not a winter, although we have been through some. We are not spring as that is something re-emerging...we never went away. We are not fall.
We are tan lines...we are salt on skin. We are Corona's with lime. We sip in the refreshing aspects of each other, drunk on proximity, laughing at our lack of pretense.
We are soothing, the quiet repetitive lap of waves on a shore...your beauty is captured in bright colored sea-shells glimpsed briefly through translucent waters...it is in the color of skies over a sea. Each one un repeatable...but still beautiful each time. I've used that metaphor before and I do it again as it is specific and it is perfect.
We loosen clothes, clutch at each other and wade into warm waters.
We look forward to Friday's like we used to look forward to a trip to the ocean.
Each Friday now I remember the way we were there in a season and if I had to describe it I would just say that it felt like Summer.
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