summer. that great break for students…no more tests or classes…no papers or assignments. some of my favorite summer memories are from the very beginning of summer when the newness of that fabulous and ever-longed for three-month-holiday was still fresh.
long evenings on the front porch of friends or my back deck in north carolina…enjoying the cooler evening air with good friends, some delicious food paired with long-steeped sangria and perhaps some apple tobacco in the hooka.
laying in the sun with friends, a book or magazine at my side that i have zero intention of reading. all sighing delirious sighs of relief. we've survived again.
it seems that a lot of my fond memories of summer (or perhaps in general) also have something to do with food. nothing beats good food with good friends. nothing.
summers at camp barnabas…the exhaustion and the sense of "doing good".
young summers. playing in the park across the street from the house i grew up in. sleeping in and taking naps in the shade of a tree. praying school never started again.
and then there was that fateful summer. the summer i first traveled abroad. and i was never the same again. the whole world opened up to me in ways i could never have expected. to see…something else. somewhere else. the travel but bit and the waunderlust will never be cured.
and now summers are always different. i'm no longer a student.
but, for now, living in uganda seems like perpetual summer, even though i am working–something about constant warmth lets the relaxed feeling of summer permeate all i do. every project is a summer project. every harvest is a summer harvest. every party is a summer party.
perhaps my favorite summer memories will be from this 3-year-long summer…