The way in which the sunlight reflected off the lake behind my house
Always reminded me of a pathway to heaven.
I never told anyone, but when I was seven,
Everytime my dad took me sailing
I would think to myself,
“Someday I’m going to die,
And I’m going to walk up that golden path
Into the clouds.”
Once, my dad saw me staring at the shimmering reflection
And asked me what I was thinking about.
I told him I liked how pretty the light looked, all glittery
And perfect in the moments before the sun set.
This, this was summer -
Too many thoughts and nothing but time to think them.
This was summer -
Lying on the grass and looking up at the tree
That stood tall above me.
The crackling of a campfire on the rocks,
Fed with newspaper and laughter.
The sweet taste of melting ice cream
Underscored by the splinters in our hands
From the old dock we sat on.
Long silences filled with noise -
The crashing of waves on shore
A bird’s lazy song
A barbecue in the distance.
This, this was summer
Where questions came to be answered
Where pressure was turned away at the door
Where rules did not even ring the doorbell.
Where sadness morphed from a storm cloud
Into a raindrop
That felt like a victory
When you caught it in your tongue
And happiness was stored in the puddles
We danced in.