As I lay in my bed, lights out and mind lit, I hear the sounds of home. With the window open next to my ear, the faint roar of the freeway takes me back to the summer nights when I'd lie in the tent in my backyard reading C.S. Lewis books and welcoming midnight visitors through the back gate. We'd chat about life and living while the lotus buzzed, until the sun came up with its warm humidity, forcing us to retreat to the couches and air conditioning inside.
Then my mom would awake us with the aroma of french toast.
Those were the days.
And you know what I'm going to do this summer?
The exact same thing.