There’s a strange relief in the feeling that summer’s only just begun.
grass
I’m seeing Sir in a week, which I am so excited for.
We had a talk last night where we went over some of the tough stuff about distance and the state of the relationship. And one of the things we agreed on, oddly enough, was that we wanted to get to a point where finally seeing each other doesn’t just mean two or three days straight of sex.
So, we made some plans for this trip that involve doing stuff with our clothes on, like going on a double date with That Guy from My Frat and The Redhead.
I miss the summer, when he’d take me to the park sometimes and we’d find somewhere grassy and still and quiet. I miss closing my eyes and smelling just how green the grass was, being teased about my dirty feet. I miss how -when at the slightest suggestion that someone was coming I would bolt up and tug my skirt down – he told me that even if I was a little bit of a scaredy-cat, I was still a little floozy.
Those are grass imprints on my thighs and calves.
And, yes, my toes are dirty.
Because that’s what happens when you take a little girl to the park.
