Birdsong and Sunrise

If I could build a summer home

It would be

Window screens and box fans, the sound of thunder as a summer storm rolls in. Now those windows are closed up by air conditioning, but I still prefer the heat and the summer breeze.

It would be

4th of July snappers and smoke bombs, bottle rocket wars, and ghost in the graveyard late into the night. Lately, those summer parties happen at lakes we aren’t invited to, but I still prefer the backyard.

It would be

Clothesline strung between maple trees with trunks so wide you can’t wrap your arms around them. That clothesline is gone, and some of the trees too, but I still prefer watching the day’s wash swaying with the summer breeze.

It would be

Cooling asphalt under my bare feet as I splash in puddles during a summer storm… there used to be two spots that puddled before the asphalt was paved over with concrete. I miss those puddles. I thought the warm asphalt was just fine.

It would be

A tall evergreen growing outside my bedroom window. Sap sticking to my fingers, needles in my hair, as I climb until the branches become so dense I can’t climb any higher. That tree was cut down to make way for big trucks and a new foundation. I thought the evergreen was just fine.

It would be

Crab apple tree blossoms and the fairy tale land around me as a gust of wind sends their petals flying, that same gust of wind carrying my kite high into the sky. Those trees were replaced with trees that don’t flower, but I thought they were just fine.

It would be

The railroad tie fence that doubles as a drive-up for an upside down tricycle ice cream shop on long, hot summer days filled with imagination. The fence was removed just because. The fence was just fine.

It would be

Napping on a flat sheet surrounded by Lake Michigan sand and the sounds of Welcome to the Jungle. Warm summer sunshine on my face, a sunburn just around the corner. Endless beach days traded “up” for Caribbean cruises and Mexico trips. I thought those beach trips were just fine.

It would be

Peanut butter and jelly toast, Jane Fonda workouts, Little Bunny Foo Foo, a sister with curls eating bananas, and a brother with rope burns, a buzzcut, and a summer tan. But, we’re all grown up and now we do yoga and sing songs to our own kids over toast and bananas.

It would be

A chorus of birds and cicadas unified in song just beyond my window. The early morning graygreen turning magnificent bluepurplepinkorange dawn of the summer solstice. Those morning meetings don’t happen anymore, but at least I still have the summer sunrise.

—

The 3pm shadow stretches out in front of me as I run East.

Arms pumping, legs moving, wind at my back.

Am I chasing summer or am I just trying to get back home?