Ready, Able

When I stop and think about summer, my mind always time travels back to my childhood.

My summer days as a 10-year old were so joyous and carefree. I would spend countless hours outside with my twin brother and my two next door neighbors / best friends at the time, Allison and Sarah. We'd spend our days playing in sandboxes, running through sprinklers, and hiding out in our secret treehouse in the woods. We ran away from home a lot to go adventuring in the woods. We'd chase down cars so they'd buy our watered-down lemonade. We'd have yard sales where we'd try to sell our toys for ridiculously high prices (so of course we never made any money). We'd find tadpoles and lug them around the block in a wagon so we could sell them as pets (our only client was one of our friends). Hell, one time we drew a long line of chalk in the middle of the street that spanned the entire neighborhood, because we were convinced we'd break a world-record for the longest line of chalk and somehow win lots of money (a simple google maps search indicates that our line of chalk was just a measly 0.6 miles long). I had my share of failed get-rich-quick schemes as a child, didn't I?

As I grew older, summer continued to be my favorite season of the year, primarily because I had so much freedom. I could ride my bike with friends to 7-11 for slurpees if I wanted to. I could go swimming at the beach. I could go camping (fun fact: I love the smell of campfire smoke). I could spend countless days per summer running around Six Flags (I used the hell out of my season pass). I could go on family vacations, my favorite of which have been my trips to the Outer Banks (speaking of which, I'm go back to OBX next week with Jen and some friends).

After I moved out of the house and went to college, freedom became more of an everyday thing, and the summertime no longer regularly gave me that same specific feeling that it once did. Every once in a while, however, as temperatures rise and the sun starts gleaming in my eyes, that feeling comes back, even if it's just for a second. A brief burst of nostalgia. A sense of feeling hopeful and free.

And over the last few days, I've really felt it again. Maybe the summer air has reinvigorated my spirits? I've got high hopes for the future; plans that break down the boundaries of the last seven months of my life and embrace growth and happiness. The gears are in motion, and I'm ready.