Sticky, Real Love

Somewhere towards the end of May, when all the flowers have bloomed and the sun makes its grand entrance, shining in an open cloudless sky, warming half the earth, it begins.

Summer love. Peaking in June, it can catch you when you least expect it. You’re riding that awful noisy bus home from school on the last day and you find yourself smiling at a sweet text. You’re out on a midnight run to the dollar store and you see a cutie eyeing you from the candy aisle. You’re hanging out with a friend – JUST a friend – and you start looking at them in a way you never did before. There’s something about sunshine that makes us all grow a little more affectionate. And sometimes, our affections grow in the same direction, with no less than absolutely perfect timing.

We flirt endlessly, and then turn to more serious matters when we decide to openly talk about relationships forming together. We lay it all out – either no secrets or no strings – and call ourselves an item. We call each other late at night when everyone else in the house is sound asleep, laughing at each other in the slap-happy hours before dawn, looking at the same moon from different skies.

We start sneaking around. Sinking away into summer nights in our cars, pushing them to the end of the driveway and not fully closing the doors until we’re five minutes away. We find abandoned houses that may or may not be haunted, old parking lots with NO LOITERING signs, but who’s watching anyway, right? We meet up and find heaven on earth, sometime between midnight and four o’ clock.

During the months of June and July, and the first half of August, we flourish. We fall into each other, letting ourselves be consumed by the majesty that is human feeling, completely dependent on the clouds parting and our parents not being home in order to feel alive. We smile, laugh, scream, and cry. We kiss, climb, drive, run, swim, drink, skinny dip, and learn to truly feel what life is supposed to be like. We’re whole. We’re happy.

Sadly, for most of us, it ends when school begins session. We trade our stick and poke tattoos for pencils and our midnight ice creams for packed sandwiches. Some believe that’s the beauty of it, the value in it – how it lasts so brief but is capable of so much, how it comes and goes, a fickle thing, gone like the summer breeze. A touch and go concept that lets us keep a box of nostalgia and shine under our beds. However, I believe we can keep it.

Let our summer love burn all the way through winter. Keep us warm and passionate when icy winds give their best attempts to freeze us. Love when everything is dead, care when everything is cold. We can do it. We’re the lucky ones.

– But for now, let’s just enjoy what we have. Popsicles and real, true love.

By Courtney

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