Empty summer

Maybe all those times we weren’t talking, you didn’t know what I meant at all.

When did I lose my patience for nonsense? I used to get lost in it, bask in it, end over end with the nonsense. It’s why I was such a favorite with the kids, with the old men, such a charmer I could be. Now I find myself huffing impatiently at the nonsense. Pushing past, rushing through, swinging door, let’s go. Time is of the essence.

It’s one of those nights the air is so still and you want to sit on the tailgate of your friend’s truck and look up at the stars and wish that this was the only night, the last night, that time would stop for once, even though on the flipside you have 80 more years of these nights and what’s the rush? Why not move on to those nights rather than stay here in this one?

It’s one of those nights the rain is so soft it seems mismatched with the lightning and the thunder clapping close. One of those nights my dad would have shut off the air and opened up all the windows. One of those nights I would have slept very still, waiting for the cool air to break through, to overpower us in our small room.

One of those nights.

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