All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Indian Summer
Dirt roads run everywhere taking us home or where we need to go
Lemonade, which I hated for the longest time
Seems to be the only thing keeping me alive as long grass waves in the air
Living here in summer is like drowning because the air is thick with unfallen rain
And the sun withers us into the ground and feeds the algae that we can’t get out of the pool
Ellie with a Coke during the week we cut the hay dangling her tiny legs over the bridge which is only two feet off the ground
The smell of the bonfire we had with the neighbors, burning old wood from the barn door that got broken off by my horse
Bringing straw reeds up to the house to weave, but just throwing them away because we are terrible weavers
You accidentally wishing on an airplane instead of a star
Stealing your brothers favorite pillow and favorite shirt and hiding them in the cellar when we were ten
Me finding the shirt again when I was thirteen and wondering if we ever returned the pillow
The loft that we shared while you were here
The perfect popcorn we made that your dad dumped an entire salt shaker into and pronounced “the best”
The hilarious photos we took when we were messing around with the old fashioned stuff we found in the barn
Me falling off the hay bales and into the hay and thinking for ten minutes I had actually died and checking for a pulse because I was afraid of heights
Jack and Eva coming over and us all falling into the creek together while we were fishing
The Indian summers that we spent together when we were kids
But it can never happen again.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
Just a little bit of drabble about the long summers I used to spend on my family's farm before we moved to the city. Sometimes I miss them...