A sip of air 🌬
The single breath
between seventeen
and thirty one
is hardly even a sip—
suddenly, you miss
the sting of Axe body
spray in your nostrils,
the salve of a summer
morning. Time, at times,
feels as valuable as air—
like oxygen, it fills you
up and slips away
through your pores.
There’s something about the start of summer that always smells like freedom, and the chill of fall that feels like a new beginning. I still associate the seasons with the ebbs and flows of a schoolyear, even a decade after my last class. I wonder if it’ll always feel this way?
This note to self was written June 4th, 2021.
In other news, look at this picture I took of a fountain on my college campus. It was summer 2008, and the next stage of my life was just beginning.