And then, the fireflies.
The municipal pool was a miracle of chaos. It smelled of chlorine, coconut sunscreen, and cheap hot dogs. It was a roiling mass of splashing kids, where the lifeguard’s whistle was the only law. We didn’t swim laps; we waged underwater wars, holding our breath until our lungs screamed, wrestling for a single, sunken quarter at the deep end. We flew off the high dive, not as boys, but as Icarus, arms wide, stomach dropping, before slapping the water with a crack that left red welts on our chests. It was glorious. my favourite season summer
She was right. Summer is crazy. It’s too hot, too fast, too bright. It ends too soon. And then, the fireflies
The sound of a basketball dribbling on the driveway pulled me off the bed. My best friend, Sam, was already outside, his tank top stuck to his skin. “You coming, or are you gonna hibernate until August?” he yelled up. It was a roiling mass of splashing kids,
My name is Leo, and summer is my church.