The great runaway.
Off on our own to the beaches of Florida, making our way through the winding streets until we found the golden beaches, the holy grail of what we had been searching for.

The sand was like lava, nipping at our feet forcing us to hop around until we grew accustom to the heat; but we never wanted to wish it farewell. This was paradise compared to the snow stricken Michigan we would be forced to return to.

Throwing the football back and forth like a group of future quarterbacks until our arms began to tingle from the repeated motion of grip, extend, release.
Lying out in the sun hoping our skin would turn to a golden brown crisp that we could
show off during our inevitable yet dreaded return to our homeland.

Swimming in the water like sharks almost as if we were born in the ocean. Cold white cap waves rushing over each one of us sending us tumbling down to the depths where we formally encountered large jagged reefs of coral condemned to the ocean floor.

Childish water fights in the evening hearing shouts of laughter as the droplets of salty water struck each of us in the face.
Arctic cold lemonade in the afternoon warding off the heat which threatened to suck the moisture out of our bodies.

Our red shirts that stated bro 1 through three, off on our own little adventure.
This was our escape from home, our getaway from the stress driven society of which we’ve become familiar with.

Lying under the whistling green trees and gazing up at the heavens.
This was the great runaway.