Summer has always been a time of respite from the hellish demands, pressure and misery of the rest of the year. As a kid, I hated the abuse I had to endure in the school year under the rooftop of a very highly dysfunctional family.
But every year, come June 15, I’d fly by myself to Hawaii for a summer full of exclusive love and attention and spoiling. Even the plane ride there was a big deal — I got to get on a plane knowing that no matter what shit I put up with or would have to put up with later, I was safe and sound for exactly 60 days.
I remember arriving in Hilo excited to be free, to do the things I wanted to do without ever feeling like a low life animal.
That’s just a tiny glimpse of why I love summer. I plan to write more about this as this summer progresses. (6/22)