The Summer of 2002....

In the summer of 2002 I was free. Or at least I felt free.

I let go of myself and my worries and my cares and I just glided along in a merry fit of excitement.

I took no heed to the wants and needs of my diet or my bank account but merely paid heed to those whims my carefree and scattered mind might conjure up in the moment.

I danced on dance floors to the sound of music under the twinkling lights of smoke-filled bars.

I whipped down streets in the back of convertibles with pot plants at my side and the sun on my face, the whole time not caring about the dangers but only enjoying the wind rushing through my hair.

I sat on the backs of porches and watched friends get totally baked and ate up the atmosphere, thick with irresponsibility, with forks and knives and spoons while drinking in the summer evenings and the giggles all about.

I drank cheap beer on patios on pizza restaurant dives while listening to the sound of traffic go whizzing by in that whir or mechanical might but only hearing the sounds of the crickets and the wind tickling the blades of grass.

On the 4th of July I baked homemade Apple Pie with girls I met during my daily adventures, and because we did not have a rolling pin we wrapped a can of RAID bug spray in plastic wrap and rolled our dough with it.

It was a very good Apple Pie.

During the days I danced on fields of green trying to keep aloft, or bring down to earth, in their turns flying discs which were majestically lofted through the air in one direction or another.

Those I danced with smiled and cajoled and laughed and loved and filled me with the warmth of being okay where I am and was.

In the summer of 2002 I was free, as free as I could be.

I floated along on life with no worries or cares and I smiled.

Sometimes I think back to those idyllic days and try to imagine how I might catch them again.

Like the summer of all youths, I hang on to vestiges of those days and to hopes and dreams that they might return.

Instead of looking forward, I try to grasp the past and can't release myself, not like I did that summer.

All there is is you, life, and the things you need to do.

What comes may come, what is may be, but you must always remember never to swim against the stream.

The waters of summers past have come and gone, and all you can do is swim in the water of the here and now on this river of life.

The more you struggle, the more you go against the current, the more weary you become.

Relax. Float. Smile and dream.

And never forget to love.

posted by Pacer 8/18/2005