We were young and it was summer. There were always popsicles. There were always games to be played and adventures to be had. There were always old friends to be found and new friends to be made. We laughed a lot, and ran a lot, and stayed outside until it grew too dark to see. Someone was always calling us home. There was no time for grief.
I’m not sure if anyone, anywhere, ever stops missing that. The world never again feels quite as possible as the days we were young and in love with our lives. We never expected to lose so much. We never considered that we could be anything but happy.
It is nostalgia that calls to me on this unusually warm April day. All around me children are laughing in the streets and running through sprinklers and chasing down ice cream trucks. It feels like summer…
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