Hot and Cold

Summer. Ahhh. Summer.

I love summer.

I love the sun (makes sun motion above head). I love tank tops and shorts. Shorts down to here (hand just below butt). I love the smell of summer (sniffs air). The smell of flowers (grows from floor like flower). The smell of grass.

The smell of strawberries and summer jobs. The smell of soil at summer camp. The smell of the water under my canoe (paddles with hands).

I love the feel of summer. Of mulch between my toes. Of public pool water on my back. Of sweet breezes through my hair. Of grass under my head.

The feel of ice on a bloody lip. Bloody from a bike ride in the park gone wrong.

The feel of flying through the air on a swing set, a giant toddler.

I love the look of summer. Of clouds shaped like bunnies. Of shiny bikes flashing from house to house (pretending to ride bike). Of the sun glaring off car windows. Of the sun glaring off my cell phone.

I LOVE the taste of summer. Of icy creamy ice cream (licking “ice cream”). Of lemonade stands. Five dollars for the mix, ten cents a glass. You don’t really get many customers in a suburb, but sweet all the same.

The taste of the popsicles you push up through plastic tubes. The taste of sunscreen, running in the ocean.

I love summer.

I love the baby animals, the heat in Europe, the heat in Cleveland. I love flip-flops. Flipping and flopping.

Summer. Ahhh. Summer.

I just love summer.