The best summers never really leave us. 30 years later and they're still showing up.
There is something about the middle of summer — which it has officially become. I can tell because the grass is crispy now. I love mid-summer. It has a funny way of convincing us that bedtime is mostly a suggestion. We'll sleep in the winter, right? Welp, that's my strategy. 🤷🏻♀️
SUMMER MORNINGS
When I was in high school, I tried to live seven lives within every summer. I had a pretty stellar job at a local coffee shop with the alarm going off at 5:15 every morning.
I loved those mornings. My small hometown is surrounded by rolling hills, the smell of hops, produce, and freshly cut grass. The air was crisp and sweet at the same time — just like I showed up for work both on time and a little late. I hopped in my stick shift Jetta and drove a little too fast, windows down, sunroof open, convinced life was as big as it could possibly be.
I still have an unnatural obsession with summer mornings. Every morning between May and September, I let my dog Elvis outside to greet/torment the unsuspecting squirrels. I stand in the yard, take one big breath, look at the sky, take in the clouds, feel the warmth on my skin.
It smells different now from thirty years ago. Less gasoline and teenage freedom… more coffee and mulch. Still wonderful. 🤩
SUMMER NIGHTS
Summer nights were another life entirely. 💃🏻 We stayed out as late as possible. Shorts, flip-flops, maybe a sweatshirt if it got chilly. We tracked down every friend we could find and laughed until our stomachs hurt.
Home in 1995 was wherever the last conversation happened to be. Every driveway, front porch, park, and pickup truck tailgate became a perfectly acceptable place to solve the world's problems.
I don't think I miss being seventeen. I just miss how enormous a Tuesday night in July could feel.
SUMMER DAYS
Maybe that's why I love to travel. Every good trip gives me that same feeling — like someone quietly handed me another summer.
I don't think vacations make us different people. I think they reintroduce us to versions of ourselves we haven't seen in a while.
Our Paris trips fulfill this magical time travel too. I know that years from now, I'll still remember the laughter inside a Paris cabaret. The sound of the gravel beneath my feet walking through the Tuileries. The birds singing outside our hotel window.
That's why I think vacations are some of the very best money we spend. The memories don't just happen once. They stack. They surprise you years later while you're making coffee on a Sunday morning.
Enjoy the rest of your summer. Eat the peach. Take the walk. Watch the sunset. This season is pure magic. ☀️
Memories don't just happen once. They stack. Come create some with me, Sydney
