That Summer

Most summers were scorchers , but this one proved to be especially humid.

We took refuge in your parents Ford explorer and hit the road with nothing but a bottle of scotch I lifted from my uncles liquor cabinet and two Tangy taffy's. 

Blue Raspberry for you.

Grape for me.

You would devour yours, but I would savor the tangy flavor while cruising to one of your classic rock mixes. 

The open road was the only place either one of us felt free.

We'd roll the windows down as the sun began to set in the distance.

You'd laugh at me, while I hung half my body out the window.

I'd close my eyes and scream at the top of my lungs, while you honked the horn and stuck your middle finger out the window.

We'd stop at Le Duc's, the towns best kept secret for frozen yogurt.

You, the flavor of the day in a cone.

Me, vanilla in a dish.

You'd give me a hard time for always getting the most boring flavor.

I'd scoop some on to my finger and wag it at you.

We'd both take turns eating it.

You'd take a large bite from your cone and rub it all over my face.

An ice cream fight would commence, while the townies flashed us dirty looks and pity.

 On the way home, you'd switch to your nostalgic mix as the sun fully set.

We'd sit in silence staring up at the twinkled sky.

You'd pull over to the side of the road and cry.

I'd focus on the night sky and ignore you.

You'd take me home and I'd get out of the car without saying a word.

You'd flash the brights.

I'd turn and dance in front of the headlights.

You'd turn up that old Aerosmith song and I'd do a little dance for you.

You'd watch, forming a smile.

My aunt would stumble out of the house, hollering at me, but I'd keep dancing.

She'd grab me by the arm, but I'd fight her off and scream in her face.

You'd start to get out of the car but I'd jump back inside before you could.

The tires would spin out on the gravely driveway as we drove off.

I'd down the rest of the scotch and throw the bottle out the window toward my aunt.

Before I see if it hits her, you'd let out a ye-ha.

You'd look at me and run a finger across my cheek, but I'd move away and try hopping out of the car before you could stop.

The cornfields were my sanctuary.

There, I could lose anyone.

You called my name, but I would lie still so you couldn't find me.

I stayed there until I heard you drive off.

I wandered, listening to the night bugs and wind.

A shooting star glistens across the sky, but I don't believe in wishes.

I finally reach an old birch tree in the middle of an open field. 

I climb to the top and finally make that wish.

The night air has cooled.

I am home.