I can see us. We’re standing in my yard playing outfield. I’m going on and on about some movie I watched the other night. The sun is shining on your face. Timmy is screaming about how he never gets a turn to pitch. Bethany is standing at bat. We both groan knowing that she will hit the ball so far that one of us will have to run our butt off to go and retrieve it from Mr. Nemeth’s yard.
I miss when summer was summer.