A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.

The Breath of Summer

Writing about summer.I took a breath as I stepped out into the light. A familiar scent of dust covered asphalt gently baking like a sheet of homemade cookies in an oven brushed by me as I began to exhale. The subtle scent would sit on the tip of my nostrils as I walked to my car that was strategically parked under the eve of a nearby building’s roof. I felt a heaviness in the air as I sifted through the barely noticeable light summer breeze. It was undoubtedly warm outside, and the thermometer I saw, after I finally climbed into my car and turned on the engine, indicated that it was steadily growing warmer.

Despite parking in the shade, I still felt the thick heat from the middle of the day lingering around my body. A blast of warm air shot out of my car’s vents in my attempt to cool down the vehicle before frigid airconditioned wind cut through the summer heat like a hot knife through butter.

Breathing became less laborious as I drove out of the parking lot and back to my office at work. However, the thought of walking from the restaurant to my car in the heat brought me back to days when I would walk home from school as a teen. The smell had brought back mental images of slowly wandering down sidewalks next to busy streets holding my backpack and a warm water bottle that had been completely frozen at the beginning of the day.

Dozens of summers filled with swimming pools, peaceful days of lying in the grass, and riding speeding bikes down cul-de-sac capped streets flashed across my mind as I thought back to the scent of summer. The whiff of dense hot air transported me back in time, it brought on nostalgic thoughts from yesteryear and prompted me to think carefully about the summers yet to come.

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