The First Date

The sun and warmth of this summer has made me nostalgic.

These “dog days of summer” take me back…. to a time long, long ago when I was eighteen and on a first date with a boy who was *gasp* five years older than I.

One warm Sunday afternoon, he picked me up in his mother’s car, a white sedan with a burgundy interior. The day before he had told me,

“Wear something you don’t mind getting wet.”  and he smiled as he lazily leaned against the counter of the “Pic-a-dilly Malt and Donut Shop” where I was working for the summer.

The next day, after hours of sorting through my closet I finally I wore jean shorts and a tee shirt overtop a tank top. The tee shirt was grey.

And off we drove to the river. Where we floated, and talked and enjoyed the silence and the sun.

There was only one inner tube so we had to sit close.

The water was shallow and slow and the afternoon was filled with hope and promise.

In three weeks I was leaving home for university. I was nervous and excited to be off on my own and having the entire world opening before me.

The future seemed filled with all sorts of possibility and promise.

I wonder how I can capture this same feeling decades later, when summer is coming to its end where it seems that I must “return” rather than “go forward.”.

But,

I guess,

if I look close enough, what lies ahead are promises of another kind.

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