24 June 2005
I miss the summers we spent hiking miles into the woods dancing around campfires with fifty familiar faces or cramming a hundred people into a wood shed where the ceilings and walls dripped and when the door opened steam poured into the night. I miss long drives through Monson with the windows down sneaking out at 3AM to run down the road and meet Bruce and Adam drive to Cumbies television loud in the living room alibi. I miss fireflies in fields moonlit paths screaming to the sky down by the train tracks in the pitch black surrounded by bodies i couldn’t see and knowing that the scent of the trees was home.
