This is it, right? This is how we live?
We live in sunsets now, and warm nights of sushi and wine on patios. We live in texts from friends letting us know of impromptu get-togethers after.
That’s it, right? Life’s like this forever now?
It’s not summer in Chicago. The calendar says spring, so spring it must be. But a hot flash in the air has baked the world, turned it golden. Sun shines, the birds sing and the street musician on Grand and State brought out the electric keyboard because he’s pretty sure it’s not going to get rained on.
Shorts are out, and T-shirts. We have to re-learn to look for whooshing bikes when we cross a street, re-teach ourselves to keep eyes above the necklines.
And nights taste like drips of sweet wine, luring us to wander neon streets for ever and ever and always.
For always.
It’s a story I’ve written before along this endless, deathless cycle of spring, summer, fall, the darkening time. It’s a story I’ll feel each day I realize I want the world to live like this forever.
I want the world to be warmth, fresh food and nights with friends. I want the world to be bike rides and T-shirts.
In a few months, when I tire of sunburn prickles and sweat in uncomfortable places, I’ll want fall again. And then I’ll want snowballs and radio carols.
But for now, all I want is warm nights on patios. All I want is for this to be the way we live now.
Bikes and the scent of chocolate
