In my house summer is made for adventure.
There are road trips,
and days spent laughing until we cry.
They are old enough now to maintain memories of their childhood.
As they age I want them to recall the feeling of wet grass on their bare feet,
the sharp contrast of a dark nights sky and the flickering of lightning bugs.
I want them to smell smoke and remember their momma trying hard to start a campfire and the taste of burnt marshmallows on their tongues.
Time here, in this place, moves so very fast.
I want summer to be their soft landing, for a few months the slower pace of life that lends itself to memory making.