The summer’s winding down. Pretty soon I’ll be at a desk in my high school, learning things, which is great, but will nonetheless be hampered by daydreams of times just weeks ago when I was in the Middle East, sleeping in, eating cotton candy, recording, and feeling good n’ free. School rules, but so does not school. I’ll miss summer.
And I’ll miss it even more when I’m not on the kid side of things—I know this because I’m pretty much already on the not-kid side of things. The block party will no longer be about the annual opportunity to traipse the street unfettered by cars and to act like a biker gang with your home-dawgs. It’ll be about talking with grown-ups, because I’ll be a grown-up. That’s okay with me, because I love talking with grown-ups. But I’ll miss the traipse-in’. The biker-gangin’. I’ll miss waiting to be a grown-up.
I guess I could just keep on waiting. Er, working. I think most of us do.
