Dreaming of Warm Places

Today, while the snow pounds the ground outside of my window, I dream of warm places. Non-white, fluffy places. Places where the sun is so bright that sunglasses are mandatory and crispy, red shoulders are a risk you're willing to take.

 

I dream of 90 degree days when the local dairy farmers toss icy, chocolate milk from their parade floats, and most of the outfits lining the street are made up of red, white, and blue sundresses and tank tops.

I dream of a swim-up bar (while not pregnant, of course) and a tasty "Dirty Banana" smoothie while the music plays at just the right decibel. Every stressor you had before you boarded that plane and hopped in that pool suddenly seems less important than the decision of which beverage you'd like to try next.

 

I dream of outdoor meals with friends where the sun shines from every direction and you wish you had nothing else in life to do but to sit right there. Forever.

 

I dream of summer thunderstorms. I crave the days of slightly open windows with the smell of rain and the sound of thunder. Ominous clouds call out to me on days like today.

 

I dream of beaches. Enough said.

 

And tubes being pulled behind boats where the genuine laughter is the loudest you've heard it in a long time. And where "okay, one more time" makes you feel like a little kid again regardless of your age.

I dream of fairs and festivals and hats that keep the sun out of your eyes.

 

 

 

I dream of fair food and deep fried picnics while listening to live music. 

Maybe even a little touch football in your cowboy boots and seersucker dresses.

 

And outdoor dates with a hot guy.

 

 

 

 

And neighborhood get togethers with bright clothes and your besties.

 



 

 

And, lastly, I miss the fun and joy and exploration that only summer can bring.

Check your cares at the door and hop on the fast slide. It'll take your breath away.