9.6.11

Perfect Summer Night #1


Summer nights can be magical.  Tonight, the temperature of the breeze on my shoulders took me back to a summer night, lo these many years ago.  That made me think of all the perfect summer nights I've had in my life.  I can't write them all now, but here's the earliest one (I've passed over pre-adolescence because summer nights when I was a kid were all uniformly perfect and perfectly lit by games of flashlight tag and jars of fire flies).

My friends and I always met at The Square, which was, conveniently enough, a town square.  On one side of the square was our coffee house/book store (where we got out caffeine fixes and Hermann Hesse), and on the other side, the all-night diner where we somehow always ended up, feeding quarters into the jukebox while the cook, a dead ringer for Louis Cyphre, cooked us burgers and grilled cheeses and waffles and fries while we smoked pack after pack of cigarettes.

I was running late, running lights, to get there faster.  My boyfriend had just gotten back from visiting his sister in Italy and I hadn't seen him for a month (oh, the torture and the trans-Atlantic phone bill).

I pulled into a parking spot in the frighteningly under-lit public lot and jogged through the coffee house into the middle of the square where he sat, purple guitar in hand, singing.  I remember the heat rising in my cheeks as I approached him, nervous to see him, kiss him.  He looked up and saw me and smiled a smile that made me shaky on my feet.  He laid the guitar aside and stood up and took three big steps to meet me.  I was swung off my feet and we kissed the kiss of the deprived.  It was hot and long and ended only when one of our friends got up to make us a PDA shelter*.


That boy was the love of my 10th-grade life.  We spent that night laughing and talking and snuggling in the warm, summer grass, eating burgers and fries we got from the all-night diner and ate outside in the warm, bright night.  When it was time for us to go, I drove him home and we spent the night in his bed, getting re-acquainted with each other's bodies and touches and when I got up to go in the darkest, quietest hours of the morning, he gave me a necklace he'd brought me from Florence.  And I was sure I would love him forever.




*PDA shelter - when one of your friends makes a little house over you with their hands so that you don't have to get a room

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