I'm standing on the edge. I'm ready to go. Summer storms are already drifting in as though to tease the coming months. The heavy humidity hangs in the air, relenting only under the guise of the night sky and cold rain.
What I have left yet to do is the most important, and yet the easiest to ignore in the rush for the break. Is it any surprise that so many just don't show up?
I am jumpy, stressed even, too willing to leave it all behind for eight sweet weeks. My knees shake a little. I have been preparing for this for so long.
But when sweet release arrives, what will I really do with it? I wish not to squander my precious freedom on useless experiences or simple choices that I could make anytime.
I want this summer to mean something.
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