As the blizzard of the century is bearing down on the Midwest, and the bottom falls out of our thermometers in Minnesota, I think it is time for some warm happy thoughts.
To hell with February! Today we will pretend it’s not winter. So put on your Members Only jacket, and your Ocean Pacific T-shirt, and come with me back to the summer of 1984.
(PS – Don’t forget to tuck a comb in your tube sock)
The streetlights cast a long shadow across the porch as we sit on the wooden swing. Only four more days until school begins. In some ways it cannot come quick enough, but in others I dread the start of school. What will become of us? Will this become just another summer romance? How will we manage to see each other once school is added to sports and work?
We sit quietly in the darkness, holding hands, and swinging back and forth. The lights of passing cars spin our shadows around us like the hands of a clock. It’s getting late and I will have to go home soon, but for now I am grasping for each moment with all my strength.
A breeze blows through the trees, and the velvety green leaves seem to breath all up and down the length of this sleepy street. Soon Fall will chase us inside. At fifteen, privacy is a luxury we do not have. Where will we go to kiss when the porch swing is covered in snow?
I pull her close, our hands begin to search. We are like two little kids flipping the pages of a book we are too young to understand. The shadows of the porch envelop us. We have no idea what might be waiting within our reach, and for this moment we no longer care.
There is no sound but the slow groan of the swing as we sway back and forth, teetering on the brink of a chasm whose bottom we cannot see. Our fingers interlock as we kiss, fumbling for a grip on the cliffs edge. Every creak of the swing sounds like her parents footsteps. Our hearts pound faster now. The swing keeps time like a pendulum. Wet mouths part and meet again.
With our eyes closed tight, we open our hands and let go.