The sun was setting as our parents pryed us from the waters cool embrace.
I can still taste the lemon chiffon ice cream, feel the cone in one hand, oversized beach towel clenched around my shivering body in the other.
We crowded on the lawn, staring up at the sky as it burst.
Our skin tingled as the sun sunk into the waiting arms of the great lake.
We sat, nestled against the sand, wrapped in blankets and sweaters that smell of sweet campfire smoke.
A breeze floated off the surface of the inky water, inspiring us to gather our coverings more tightly around our summer browned bodies.
The beach rumbled, we leaned back, and let out a sigh of satisfaction.
Our journey to the roof was a precarious one to say the least. Laden with backpacks and baskets filled to the brim with food and drink.
We climbed up the sunken wooden stairwell and balanced across the concrete ledge between two buildings. Hitching our loads tight around our shoulders, we swung our arms around the rusted, single rung ladder and made the final ascent to the roof.
The city sparkled, sprawling before us, a sea of concrete and light. Toasts were made, laughter wrang out, and hearts lept with joy into the night sky.
The heat was unbearable but it didn’t stop us from celebrating. Cookouts, kiddie pools, and corn hole.
Bottle caps littered the counter top, evidence of the drinks that kept us cool as we sat, lethargically, in any (and every) patch of shade we could find.
The oppression began to lift as the cool of sundown crept in.
We made our way to the roof (reminiscent of years past) and gathered together, one spirit, infinitely childlike; full of wonder as the sky bloomed and became alive once more.