summer in chicago

i remember melting in the hot humid air underneath the shade of a single tree. i would always swat the mosquitoes away while my brother and cousin would chew on ice wrapped in moist paper towels. on days when our grandma would shoo us out of the freezer, my brother and i would walk to the pond nearby and pretend to fish with our dog sleeping in the grass nearby. When the long summer nights would come around, i would run outside in my nightdress and try to catch fireflies in glass jars.

then there was the lightening storms. I would always hug my knees into my chest, leaning against the tall glass window, watching the lightening strike into a magnificent and terrifying wonder. if i close my eyes, i can still hear the thunderous echo of the storms.





there are so many things that i miss.
its almost unbearable.